


Reunion

by RivanWarrioress



Series: Happiness and Heartbreak [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Adopted Stiles Stilinski, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Felicity Smoak is a genius, Future Arrow verse, Gen, Hurt Jackson, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Medical Inaccuracies, Pack Family, Post Season 2 of Teen Wolf, Reunions, Team Arrow, Torture, Violence, Werewolves, so are Lydia and Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 69,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s been fifteen years, I know I should just let it go, but I can’t…they’re my nephews.”</p><p>Fifteen years have passed since the Harper-Queen twins were abducted from their nursery, their parents left bleeding out on the floor as they were taken away to places unknown.  Untold damage had been done to thier family that night, but still their family had never completely given up on them</p><p>Now, in a small town called Beacon Hills, the lacrosse team is still riding high from it's championship win, Jackson Whittemore is still adjusting to his new werewolf status, and Stiles Stilinski is struggling to cope with how rapidly everything around him has been changing lately.</p><p>Fourth story in the Happiness and Heartbreak series, read the first three stories (New Beginnings, Abduction and The Baby in the Woods) first in order to get the gist of the story, although Reunion does make sense as a stand alone, but you might miss some of the plot points and references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own or imply that I have ownership of the characters, locations and other recognisable features within this story.

The darkness of the current lair of the Starling City vigilantes was broken only by the illumination provided by Felicity’s tablet screen as Oliver walked into the room, shrugging off his green vigilante jacket and draping it over the back of a chair thoughtfully as he watched his wife of thirteen years, knowing that she was probably oblivious to his presence.

 

At over 40 years of age Oliver Queen had maintained his high level of fitness, his body still just as muscular as it had been when he was 27 and recently returned from Lian Yu, although he would be the first to admit that he was no-where near as fast as he had been fifteen years earlier, and when he was injured it took a lot longer for the pain and swelling to go away. In the cold weather his knees and shoulders ached from what he’d put them through in the past, and standing under the spray of a nice hot shower didn’t quite do as much for him to loosen his muscles as it used to.

 

Felicity, in Oliver’s opinion, was a beautiful as ever, a pen tapping thoughtfully at the corner of her kissable mouth, her focus fixed on whatever she was looking at. Oliver smiled inwardly at her actions, knowing that throwing her focus into cases was just one of her coping strategies.

 

It was, however, getting very late, and Oliver knew for a fact that Felicity had a meeting to attend in the morning with Ray Palmer, a mutual friend and business associate of the couple for a long time. Despite having not liked Ray at first, the man had come to grow on Oliver, and now Oliver considered the other man a friend and ally.

 

“Felicity,” Oliver spoke, trying to avoid startling his wife. Felicity, however, obviously had been deep in her thoughts, because she still startled violently, almost falling from her chair. She took a moment to steady herself, before she leveled a glare at Oliver.

 

“Sorry,” Oliver apologized, “but it’s getting late, and we should head home for the day.”  


Felicity frowned and glanced at her watch, visibly cringing when she saw what time it was, “Oh, damn, Sorry,” Felicity apologized, beginning to pack up and switch off her screens. Oliver frowned and approached her, not liking for one minute how flustered and generally strange Felicity was being. He was used to her quirks, but something about her behavior concerned him.

 

Oliver understood Felicity’s behavior, however, when he caught a glimpse of her tablet screen, and saw one of the files relating to Robbie and Alex’s kidnapping fifteen years earlier.

 

Despite the fact that so many years had passed since that night Oliver still felt his chest tighten as he saw the photo of his nephews attached to the digital file Felicity had been looking at. The fact that one of the few cases Oliver hadn’t been able to solve over his long years serving the people of Starling City was the kidnapping of his own nephews was a definite sore spot for him.

 

Oliver felt Felicity’s hand touch his shoulder, and he blinked, forcing himself to look away from the now darkened tablet screen.

 

“Sorry,” he shook his head, “I just…zoned out for a bit.”

 

“It’s okay,” Felicity told him, setting the tablet aside and rising to her feet, cupping her hands over his cheeks, “I know you miss them...I know that you want to find them and get some sort of closure, either way.”

 

Oliver nodded silently, thinking about the dwindling number of people who believed that Thea and Roy’s twins were still alive. Oliver was one of them, Roy and Thea were as well, although Oliver wasn’t sure what Felicity thought. Diggle had confessed to Oliver that he’d given up on hoping that the twins were alive years earlier, and Sara, jaded and more realistic after her experiences with the League, had admitted that she’d given up before the twins had been gone for a year. Oliver had stopped asking his friends what they thought about on the matter after that. Seeing the pity in their eyes as they shook their heads was just too painful to witness...and Oliver wasn’t even the twin’s father. He had no idea how Roy and Thea had managed to hold it together for so long.

 

“It’s been fifteen years, I know I should just let it go, but I can’t…they’re my nephews.”

 

“Nobody expects you to let it go, Oliver, disregarding how much time passes,” Felicity told him sternly, grabbing her laptop bag and her purse, before taking his hand in her on and leading him from the room, flicking the lights off as they left. Oliver was silent as Felicity drove towards their home, not protesting when she took his car keys from him on the way to the car park, his mind still dwelling on the reminder of his twin nephews, taken away from them so long ago.

 

It didn’t take long for them to reach the apartment they shared, located only a block from the loft that Thea and Roy lived in, the very same one that they’d brought the twins home to the day they were discharged from the hospital. Oliver walked over to the windows, gazing out at the city below as, behind him, Felicity put her things away and went into the bedroom, presumably to get changed into something a little more comfortable.

 

The twins would be 16 now, old enough to drive. Oliver smiled to himself as he remembered the day that he had offered to help Roy teach the boys how to drive when the boys had only been a few months old. Oliver and Roy had been babysitting while Laurel and Thea dragged Felicity and Sara out for a shopping trip, and had spent the day watching baseball while the twins lay on the floor, sucking on their toes and generally just keeping themselves occupied unless there was something they needed.

 

It had been a good day, one of the few where Oliver had let himself forget about his role as Starling City’s guardian, and instead let himself be “Uncle Ollie” and relax with Roy and the twins. Oliver was certain that a few photos taken that day, both by Roy and himself, and by Thea when she got home to find Roy and Oliver sound asleep on the floor, each with one of the twins sleeping on top of them, still existed, probably on Felicity and Thea’s computers, and, maybe, in paper format in the photo albums that Thea had that were devoted to her little boys.

 

Perhaps what hurt Oliver the most about the twin’s kidnapping was the pain Roy and Thea went through, and still had to deal with every day. Oliver himself had helped Roy pack up the nursery furniture that had been in the twin’s shared room when it became obvious that, even if the twins were recovered alive and well, they’d be too old to continue sleeping in cribs. Even though it wasn’t a sign of giving up on the twins, Oliver still had noticed how much Roy had cried that day…and Thea had locked herself in her room, hiding from the world, although they’d all been able to hear her mournful crying through the walls.

 

While the passing years had helped numb the pain, Oliver knew that Thea and Roy still missed their children deeply. Mother’s day, Father’s day, Christmas, and the twin’s birthday were all especially hard days, with both of them spending those days with just each other, trying to cope with their loss as well as they could.

 

Whenever they had dealings with children or more recently teenagers, Roy could be counted on to look after them and get them back home, although it would often lead to the younger man spending time brooding quietly. Thea threw herself into charity work, taking special interest in funds for orphans in the glades, or children whose lives had been affected by crime. Thea’s interest in such charities had led to a lot of speculation by the media that she and Roy would adopt in order to fill the empty places in their hearts, but Oliver knew that Thea and Roy had no intention of ever adopting a child. The twin’s kidnapping had simply proved how dangerous it was for any of them to have such innocence in their lives.

 

It was the due to the very same reason that Oliver and Felicity had never had children. Although there had never been any evidence that the twins had been taken because of Oliver’s secret Identity, or because of Roy’s duties, or of anything else related to the Arrow and Arsenal, it didn’t take an IQ like Felicity’s to guess it was why the twins had been taken. None of them had wanted to risk something similar happening again, so Thea and Roy had decided not to adopt, and Oliver and Felicity hadn’t even considered the option of having children of their own.

 

Diggle and Lyla still had Arabella though, and after everything that had happened they were all very protective of her, perhaps more protective than Arabella herself would like, but Diggle and Lyla had greatly appreciated their efforts.

 

Arabella was finishing off her junior year of high school now, and would both turn 18 and start her senior year in the fall. Felicity had already offered to help her with her college applications, although Oliver suspected that Arabella wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and join ARGUS, not that the teenager had ever admitted as much to him. Diggle had similar suspicions, and Oliver knew that nothing scared Diggle more than his only child being in the situations that he and Lyla often found themselves in.    

 

Malcolm, despite his best efforts, had found no clues as to where the twins had been taken, or who it was who had ordered their kidnapping, although it hadn’t been for lack of trying. He had searched the world almost continuously for well over five years following the kidnapping, despite the fact that the league very much still wanted him dead. He had, however, had been aided, in that regard, by Nyssa, who had used her influence within the League to manage to shift their attention away from Merlyn, knowing how important his current job was to Sara and the rest of the team. It had all been for naught, though.

 

As for Sara and Nyssa, they were still going strong. Ra’s had permitted Sara’s departure from the league, freeing her up to help Oliver and his team in Starling City, and Nyssa came to Starling City as often as she could to be reunited with Sara. She’d become one of Oliver’s closest allies, and Oliver was glad to have her around.

 

Laurel too had played a pivotal role over the years, serving initially in an advisory role, and then doing more hands on work as she was trained by Oliver, Roy, Sara and Nyssa. She worked well with the team, becoming a sort of pseudo older sister to Thea and Felicity when they needed it, something that had happened fairly often in the immediate aftermath of the kidnapping, and if Thea had a bad day she was more likely to go and talk to Laurel than anyone else.

 

Sara and Laurel’s dad had been a valuable addition to the team, providing information to them so that Felicity didn’t have to find so much of the information herself, in additional to his knowledge to some of the more longstanding players in the Starling City criminal underbelly. He also, when needed, provided a little cover to prevent them being caught, although these days there wasn’t barely any interest in the Green Arrow being caught and charged for his crimes. Oliver’s strict no killing unless it’s absolutely necessary rule was primarily responsible for that turnaround, as well as Captain Lance speaking publically about the Green Arrow and highlighting the positives, while at the same time acknowledging, but at the same time not focusing on the bad things that had happened that were the vigilante’s fault. Occasionally it caused issues, but for the most part Lance’s allegiance with Team Arrow hadn’t caused significant problems for any involved party.

 

Not long after the kidnapping Oliver and Thea had sold their shares in Queen Consolidated to Ray Palmer, who now ran the company, renamed Palmer Industries. Felicity was still heavily involved in the organization, though, and Palmer himself often talked business with Oliver, keeping him up to date with the inner workings of the company his parents had spent so much time building into one of the top companies in the country.

 

 

The sale had left Oliver free to devote his time to searching for the twins, and also made it easier to serve Starling City as the Arrow. In hindsight Oliver knew that selling Queen Consolidated was the best thing he could have done, for the company, for Thea, and for himself, and he was pleased with his decision. Even Walter Steele had commended Oliver on this practical, mature and logical thinking the last time they had met a few years earlier. It had helped Oliver find the balance he had been searching for ever since his return from the island between his public identity of Oliver Queen, and the version of Oliver Queen that served the city as the Green Arrow.

 

After so many years under the protection of team Arrow, as Felicity was known to call them, Starling City was finally flourishing, crime and corruption were at all time lows, and poverty was at an all time low level in the Glades. Unemployment was low, and there were a number of programs being run that was effectively keeping young people off the streets and out of trouble. Both Oliver and Thea were involved in a couple of them, and Roy was involved in more than a few, never forgetting his own history in the Glades. It was only luck and how much Roy and Thea loved one another that had prevented him from just being another statistic.

 

Oliver was pleased to see the city become the hopeful beacon it had become, the one his father had wanted him to help it turn into after the Queen’s Gambit had gone down. It felt like all of the hard work, not only his, but Felicity’s, Roy’s and Diggle’s and Laurel’s, Sara’s and Captain Lance’s, and Thea’s, and Ray Palmer’s too.

 

His only regret was, however, that two of the ones they’d all been really fighting for hadn’t ever seen the place the city where they’d been born had become. Robbie and Alex had never seen how safe the Glades were now, had never seen how much hard work their parents and extended family had put into making the city a better place, not just for them but for the other children as well. Every time Oliver looked at statistics showing how much of a better city Starling City was it was like a kick in the stomach, knowing that his own nephews had been taken from them before it had happened. It felt like he’d saved the city, but he hadn’t been able to save his own blood. Oliver knew that Roy felt the same, and Thea as well…Felicity too sometimes. He saw it in the way they turned away from the statistics, often with tears shining in their eyes.

 

Oliver’s friends and family were not the only ones who remembered the twins. Every year, on the twin’s birthday, the hospital where they’d been born released 100 pale blue balloons into the sky, and Roy and Thea would be inundated with letters from the public, expressing how sorry they were that the boys wouldn’t be spending this birthday with their parents. The mayor had renamed a central city park the Harper-Queen Memorial Playground in memory of the lost twins, and there was a memorial there with the twins’ names, date of birth, and the date of their kidnapping on it. In the same cemetery where Oliver’s mother and Tommy had been buried there was a plaque in a garden dedicated to Robbie and Alexander, probably the closest thing to a grave there ever would be. The plaque was rarely without flowers, or little soft toys, left there by Starling City people who wanted to commemorate the boys’ loss. At least a few times a year an article would appear in the newspapers discussing the case, speculating if anything could have been done differently, and often the authors wrote about how the Queen family had banded together following the tragedy and had used the tragedy to inspire themselves, often mentioning the numerous charities they, and in particular Thea, had devoted themselves to after the kidnapping.  

 

Most of those among Starling City’s people who commemorated the twins’ birth, and their kidnapping, were ones who had been helped by one of the numerous charities set up in the twins name by Thea. There was the charity that provided financial support for disadvantaged families whose newborns needed to spend time in the NICU, just like Robbie and Alex had, that Thea had set up only a few months after the twins had been born, as well as a couple of scholarships for children and teenagers from the Glades who excelled academically to attend the same private school Thea had gone to, along with a few others that worked with parents of missing children, orphans in the glades, and children whose lives had been affected by crime.

 

Although they were not quite as wealthy, or as influential as they had once been, Oliver was sure that his family had never been so popular in the eyes of the people of Starling City, thanks to Thea’s charity work, especially since everyone in the city knew how much the charities meant to Thea on a personal level. It was oddly soothing to know that the people of Starling City were so supportive of his family, especially when Oliver vividly remembered how hated they were after the earthquake, although Oliver was fully aware of the fact that it would never fully ease the pain of losing the twins, not for him or Felicity, or any of their friends, and especially Thea and Roy.

 

Nothing would ever completely heal that particular wound in all of their souls.


	2. Chapter 2

Felicity watched Oliver as he stared vacantly out of the window, knowing full well what he was thinking of. There was a sort of sadness in Oliver’s eyes that Felicity had only started noticing after the twins had been kidnapped, and Oliver had often confessed he was thinking about the twins when he looked like that. Felicity didn’t blame him; he often went quiet when he saw something that reminded him of his nephews.

 

While she knew that nobody had been hit harder by the kidnapping that Thea and Roy, as Robbie and Alex’s parents, Felicity was certain that Oliver was a close third. The birth of the twins had been a turning point for Oliver, the moment when he’d truly begun to believe that there was some good in the world, and it was worth fighting for. She’d watched the wonder and happiness on his face as he’d held the twins in his arms, playing with them, rocking them, feeding them bottles, changing their diapers, loving them and doting on them just as much as any good uncle should dote on his sibling’s children. The twins, in return, had loved Oliver, their little faces brightening whenever they saw Oliver, reaching out to him to be picked up and cuddled. Alex had even started saying Oliver’s name when he saw his uncle, much to Oliver’s delight.

 

The twins had loved it when Oliver would lift them high above his head and make airplane noises, squealing and laughing and kicking their legs, and they loved crawling all over Oliver when their uncle would sit on the ground with them, bringing him whatever toy or book had captured their interest. On the nights that Oliver watched the twins for Thea and Roy Felicity often found him sitting on the floor with the twins sound asleep rather on top of him, or curled up against him, with Oliver not game enough to move in case he woke them up.          

 

When they’d been kidnapped at the tender age of 13 months old Oliver had been devastated, searching for his nephews both day and night, as both the Green Arrow and as Oliver Queen, while at the same time trying to hold Thea and Roy together as they struggled to recover physically the from attack which had gone close to killing them both, as well as dealing with the mental and emotional repercussions of their sons being taken from them with no clues as to where they were, or even if they were still alive.

 

It had been heartbreaking to watch Thea and Roy try and come to terms with their sons’ kidnapping, going through the entire grieving process, while at the same time searching tirelessly for any evidence. In months following the kidnapping Felicity had lost track of how many all nighters she pulled, searching for any trace, physical or technological, of the twins or their kidnappers that could hint at where the twins had been taken, or even who had been involved in the kidnapping, but to no avail. There had been glimmers of hope, over the years, but they’d all been dead ends that lead to nothing except more heartache for team Arrow.

 

Slowly things had begun to change, with the sting of the loss fading a little, although never completely. Life had regained some semblance of normality, although it often felt like all of the joy had been sucked out of it without the twins to brighten their days.

 

Still, time had passed, as it always does, and the world moved on from the kidnapping of the Harper-Queen twins. Felicity had been shocked the day Oliver had proposed to her, although by that point that been dating for over two years, although everyone else in their friend group had apparently been expecting Oliver to have gone down on one knee months earlier.

 

Their wedding, although beautiful, had been tinged with sadness, many of those present had been thinking of the two little boys, who would have, at that point, been almost four years old. It had been Felicity’s suggestion to involve the releasing of two balloons into the sky as part of the ceremony, to commemorate the two little boys who should have been at their uncle’s wedding, but weren’t.

 

Tentatively, Felicity glanced at her laptop bag, which also contained her tablet, before she looked back at Oliver, biting her lip uncertainly. After so many years of heartbreak and dead ends, of grief and the constant shadow of uncertainty over Robbie and Alex’s fate she was going to be bringing it all up again, and who knew how much it would hurt Oliver, let alone Roy and Thea.

 

The reason Oliver had found her in the lair, so late, but yet so absorbed n her work, was on those computers, and Felicity struggled with herself. Should she talk to Oliver about it now, or wait until she’d had more time to check things out? She hated hiding things from Oliver, and she was almost as bad a liar as he was (when it came to lying to her anyway). It was likely that he’d see straight though any lie she told him, but she didn’t want to risk getting his hopes up for nothing. He’d had such a hard life already, with so many heartbreaks thrown in his face, Felicity didn’t want to add salt into the wound in Oliver’s heart that was Robbie and Alex’s kidnapping, and the misguided guilt he felt about it.

 

Felicity thought about her conundrum as she ducked into her bedroom and got changed into her pajamas, a pair of shorts and one of Oliver’s t-shirts that she’d borrowed one night a year or so ago and never actually got round to giving it back. It was comfortable and soft, and it helped relax her.

 

Realistically, Felicity knew that she needed to tell Oliver what she’d found, and the sooner the better. He’d be able to tell her what to do next, because Felicity wasn’t sure. Would the next step be go and talk to Thea and Roy…or Captain Lance…or even go to the source and confirm things before they talked about it with Thea and Roy? Thea hated bringing up the twins around Thea and Roy, the pain in their eyes at the reminder of their lost sons had always filled her with guilt. She didn’t blame herself fo the kidnapping, or how Thea and Roy had been attacked (at least, not as much as she used to), but Felicity did blame herself for her failure to find the twins. Finding people was part of what she was best at, but finding two one year old boys had proven too difficult for her, and it would be bad enough if it was anyone’s children…but instead it had been Roy and Thea’s boys…children that Felicity loved and considered to be members of her own family…and that was how she’d felt before she and Oliver were even engaged.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Felicity walked back out into the living room of the apartment, sighing sadly as she realized that Oliver hadn’t even moved the whole time she’d been getting changed.

 

She needed to tell him what she’d found…she couldn’t stand seeing him in this sort of pain anymore. If what she found was a actual clue that lead to the twins being found then Oliver and Thea and Roy’s hearts might be able to heal a little…and if it was another dead end…well…they’d leap that particular hurdle when they reached it.

 

“Oliver…I need to talk to you about something.”      

As she spoke, Felicity reached out and touched Oliver’s shoulder gently, spreading her fingers across the muscle. Oliver blinked in surprise at the sound of Felicity’s voice, turning his head to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Felicity?”

 

“It’s nothing bad…I promise…well, it could be, but I need to talk to you about this, because I don’t know what to do about this next, and this could be huge, but at the same time it could be a false alarm, and I don’t know how we’ll handle another disappointment. I don’t want to be the one who gives everyone the news that could be absolutely nothing and kill some of what little hope anyone might have left,” Felicity babbled

 

“Whoa…Felicity…what are you talking about?” Oliver frowned, concern filling his eyes as he looked at her. Felicity felt her cheeks redden, and she bit her lip shyly.

 

“Sorry…me babbling…again…I haven’t gotten any better at not doing this.”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver pointed out gently, putting his hands on her shoulders soothingly, “what’s going on, are you ok?”

 

“I’m fine…but I’m worried you might not be after I tell you what I’ve found.”

 

“What have you found? We’ll cope, Felicity, just like we cope with everything else we’ve had to deal with, I promise.”

 

Felicity took a moment to regain control of herself, anchoring herself using the reassuring weight of Oliver’s hands on her shoulders, the feel of his rough hands against her skin as he ran his hands down her arms. Eventually, though, she forced herself to step away, getting her laptop out of it’s bag and lifting the lid, turning it on as she set it down carefully on the dining room table. Oliver followed her; Felicity could feel his eyes on her as she went through the familiar process of logging in to her laptop and sitting down in front of it.

 

“Come here, I need to show you this,” Felicity explained, reaching out her hand for Oliver to take, pulling him towards her and guiding him to look over her shoulder. Normally Felicity hated it when people looked over her shoulder while she was working, but this was different…She couldn’t do this without Oliver being as close as possible.

 

“Years ago I set up a facial recognition program to constantly search through newspapers, magazines, online articles…that sort of thing, for anyone that we might be looking for, or anyone we wanted to keep track of. I included all of us as individuals to search for, all of us being you, Thea, Roy, Diggle, Laurel, Sara, Nyssa, Captain Lance, Ray, Lyla, Arabella, and I...just so I could monitor what the press were saying about us, and you know, if the media were being creepy or anything. Let me tell you, it went absolutely nuts when we got married.”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver gently interceded to get Felicity back on point. Felicity adjusted her glasses.

 

“Right, anyway…earlier today I got a flag on a picture that the program thought was of Roy. Granted, there is a one percent margin of error I’ve worked into the program, so it’s not always right, and I never remove photos used for reference, because the media could go back and find some old shots of you in your pre island frat boy stage or something…but I do update them, because, you know, people change…and I’m babbling again. Wow, I must be really nervous about this. So, um…yeah, this photo got flagged because someone in it looked a lot like Roy, and the article it was attached to was only printed yesterday. It was in a Californian county newspaper that is published once a week, and it talks about one of the local lacrosse teams…apparently they won the state championship two weeks ago, and they were presented with the trophy last week during a thing at school.   This is the photo that flagged.”

 

As she spoke Felicity had been bringing up the article in question, and she tapped on the photo attached to the article, bringing it up so in filled the whole screen. It showed a group of boys, all of whom looking very happy, but it was to one of the boys in the middle that she wanted to draw Oliver’s attention to.

 

It was unmistakably Roy in the picture, or at least Roy as he would have appeared as a teenager, but in the background of the photo there was a flyer talking about Senior prom, and the date on the flyer had the current year on it.

 

“The caption states that all of the boys in the picture are 16 years old,” Felicity told Oliver seriously, watching as Oliver forced himself to take a calming breath.

 

“Where exactly was the photo taken?”

 

“Beacon Hills High School…Beacon Hills is about a two hour drive from Sacramento,” Felicity replied, bringing up a map which showed the location of the town in regards to the largest city, “The boy in question’s name is Jackson Whittemore. He’s the adopted son of David and Louise Whittemore. He’s a big lawyer, probably one of the biggest in northern California…they’re probably the wealthiest family in Beacon Hills. He does a lot of work all of the place…L.A., New York…he’s even got a house in London and works from there sometimes. His wife is unemployed, but she keeps herself busy as she’s on various boards and committees that operate within the county,” Felicity reported, having spent her time doing her research.

 

“Adopted?” Oliver asked curiously. Felicity noticed, but decided not to comment on the slight tinge of hope that had seeped into Oliver’s voice.

 

“According to official records Gordon and Margaret Miller were originally from Sacramento, but her family often vacationed in Beacon Hills during the summers. They met up in high school and got together during their junior year. They went to college together, got married, and became quite wealthy through the running of an electronics store. During this time they become friends with the Whittemores. 18 years ago they moved to South Africa, where, a year and a bit later Margaret Miller fell pregnant. Three weeks before her due date they were in a car accident. Gordon Miller died en route to hospital, and Margaret Miller died during an emergency c-section to save their unborn child. The baby was saved, and put in an orphanage. The car crash happened two weeks before Thea gave birth to the twins. Jump forward a year, and the Whittemores travel to South Africa and adopt the Miller’s baby son, name him Jackson Whittemore, and bring him home to the town his biological parents grew up in.”

 

Oliver visibly deflated at the story, but Felicity smiled.

 

“It’s a nice story…but it’s all lies.”

 

“What?” Oliver asked.

 

Felicity shrugged, “Well, the part about the Millers was all true. They did know the Whittemores, and they did go to South Africa. Margaret Miller was pregnant, and both she and her husband were fatally injured in a car accident that happened two weeks before the twins were born. The Millers baby was saved, and was put in an orphanage. What isn’t true, however, is the fact that the Whittemore’s adopted the Miller’s baby…and the fact that the Millers died in a car accident.”

 

“But you just said…” Oliver began. Felicity brought up some new files…copies of the Crime Scene report from the Millers car crash.

 

“The Millers brake lines were cut…it was murder…also, the Millers baby was a girl, and the Whittemores brought home a boy. Also, the photo on record for the Millers’ baby, and the photo used for the passport that the Whittemores had on them when they brought Jackson into the country…they look nothing alike. Also, I am doing some serious hacking here, like; somebody has gone to a lot of effort to hide this stuff…someone who is very good at hacking, and hiding information. Even ARGUS…the CIA…the FBI…Interpol…they’d all have trouble getting this stuff.”

 

“So…what happened to the miller’s baby? And where did they get Jackson from?” Oliver thought aloud.

 

“I don’t know what happened to the baby girl. I have a theory; I just really hope it’s wrong. As for Jackson…well,” Felicity brought the photo of Jackson Whittemore and the other boys back up, “looking at that photo, I’m pretty sure that they got him from Thea and Roy’s apartment the night the twins were kidnapped.”  

 

ARROW

 

“I mean,” Felicity offered helpfully as she and Oliver sat side by side at their dining room table, Felicity’s tablet and laptop between them, both with various files and documents being displayed, “I wouldn’t be sure that Jackson is one of the twins without running at least two separate DNA checks, to be sure, but it looks promising”

 

Oliver looked at the scanned copy of Jackson’s first passport picture, the South African one that had been used for the one year old to enter the United States two months after Robbie and Alex had been kidnapped. There was the question of how they’d managed to get him out of the country in the first place and down to South Africa, but Oliver knew enough about criminal activity to know that, for the right price, anything was possible. All it took was a money transfer to the right person’s bank account, and somebody would be looking away just as the right moment, and all sorts of things could happen.

 

It was almost unmistakable that the little boy in the passport photo he was looking at was Robbie, the elder of Thea and Roy’s sons. Considering that, at most, only two months had passed after he’d been kidnapped from his parent’s apartment, the little boy had barely changed. His hair was a little longer than it had been the last time Oliver had seen his nephew in person, and his cheeks might have been a little thinner, but otherwise it was obviously the same child.

 

“We need to go there…to Beacon Hills. It could be Robbie. After 15 years we could finally get Robbie back,” Oliver told Felicity, his voice thick with determination, although Oliver knew that Felicity had heard his unspoken words.   They might have found Robbie…but Alex was still unaccounted for. Nothing in the files and reports that Felicity had found, both genuine and false, had even hinted at Alex’s existence, or even his involvement in the elaborate scheme. Oliver didn’t know what that meant for his younger nephew, although his more pessimistic side knew that, realistically, Alex had probably been murdered, maybe even the night of the kidnapping.

 

It was hopeful that Robbie was, however, still alive, and Oliver was trying to focus on that. Felicity had looked up as much information as she could about Jackson Whittemore, and Oliver perused the information. No criminal record, although he had been a witness to a few things, and had been kidnapped by a classmate in some prank gone wrong a bit over a month ago. The other teenager had been issued with a restraining order, but the order had in face been redacted, only a few short days earlier. Obviously everything had been forgiven, although Oliver did make a mental note of it. Things like kidnappings were not something he took lightly, especially not now.

 

“What do we do about Thea and Roy?” Felicity quietly asked.

 

“We tell them…we tell them everything we know, we invite them to come with up. They should be there when we meet Robbie, and be there when we confirm everything…when we get the DNA testing done. This is the best lead that we’ve had in the last fifteen years, Felicity. This is amazing, You’re a genius.”

 

“But what if it’s not him, what if it’s just a massive co-incidence that he looks so much like Roy…what if they’re...I don’t know, distant cousins, or something. I mean, I’m 99 percent certain Jackson is Robbie, but what if he’s not?”

 

Oliver sighed, “We face that fact when we get to it, and we try to get through the disappointment, and we help Roy and Thea through it all.”

 

Nodding to herself, a smile slowly began to spread across Felicity’s features, “This could finally be it, couldn’t it. We might have finally found one of the twins.”

 

“Yeah…you might have. I’m so proud of you, Felicity,” Oliver told her, slinging his arm over her shoulder and pulling her close, leaning in for a tender kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

Stunned silence filled the lair of Team Arrow as Felicity and Oliver finished delivering the information they’d managed to get together about the case of Jackson Whittemore, and the possibility of the sixteen year old being Robert Oliver Harper-Queen.

 

Oliver cast his gaze over everyone in the room, taking in their expressions. Roy was tightly grasping Thea’s hand, his eyes filled with hope he didn’t dare express aloud. Thea’s eyes were shining with tears as she gazed hopefully at Oliver from where she sat. Diggle and Lyla’s eyes were round with disbelief, but Laurel was nodding approvingly, smiling proudly at Oliver and Felicity. Ray Palmer, who hadn’t known any of them personally back when the twins had been kidnapped, although he was very familiar with the story, looked genuinely thrilled at the news, while Sara looked like she was about to start bouncing up and down in her chair, and Captain Lance was trying to hide his smile, shaking his head fondly, probably at how much Felicity had done to find all the information she and Oliver had just presented to them all.

 

“Oh my God,” Thea finally spoke, breaking the silence as she rose to her feet and crossed the room over to where Oliver and Felicity stood, wrapping herms around Felicity in a hug as Roy too rose to his feet and followed Thea.

 

“Thank you…thank you,” Thea babbled, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clung to Felicity, Roy hugging both of them when he joined the group. Felicity was blushing furiously, although Oliver couldn’t hide his smile at how adorable the scene was…about how happy his family, having been through so much heartache and despair, had become with the news of a potential lead on the location of one of the twins.

 

“I didn’t do all that much,” Felicity stammered, “It was just one of the programs that I wrote years ago.   I’m just sorry that it isn’t more…and that it’s only one of them…and that I didn’t find all this sooner.”

 

“It’s more than we’ve had in fifteen years,” Roy shook his head, “It’s more than we could have ever anticipated, after so many years.”

 

“So…what’s the plan?” Captain Lance asked.

 

“A group of us will fly down to Beacon Hills and check things out, get DNA samples to test against the samples we have on file for both of the twins, and as well as Roy and Thea, just in case the twin’s samples have degraded over the last fifteen years…Ray…are you happy to stay behind and run the samples?”

 

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Ray nodded.

 

“Good, and you’ll also be ok to keep an eye on Starling City while the group is away?   I’ll ask Barry to serve as messenger with the samples when the time comes. He’ll probably want to help with the comparison as well.”

 

“The more the merrier,” Ray agreed cheerfully. Oliver nodded his thanks. Barry and Ray got on well, so he didn’t think that would be an issue.

 

“We’re going to Beacon Hills,” Thea announced, her voice thick with determination, as if challenging Oliver to make her stay behind.

 

Oliver held up his hands, “I wasn’t going to stop you, Speedy.”

 

“David Whittemore is a pretty high profile lawyer. I’ll go with you, just to make sure you’ve got someone with a good understanding of the law with you if you end up confronting him.” Laurel offered. Oliver could definitely see the logic behind Laurel’s claim.

 

“I won’t go straight away with you guys, but If something comes up, I’ll be down there as soon as I can,” Captain Lance offered, “If it comes to it it’ll help smooth things over with the local law enforcement.”

 

“I’ll stay in town so I can help keep things under control with Ray, so I can explain to Nyssa what’s going on if you’re still gone when she comes to visit again,” Sara offered.

 

“I’ll keep ARGUS informed of the situation, if you need backup, I’ll make sure you get it,” Lyla promised.

 

“Dig?” Oliver prompted, and Diggle smiled.

 

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, Oliver,” Diggle replied, “going to North California to get back Thea and Roy’s son is hardly the most dangerous situation I’ve followed you into, even if Whittemore does turn hostile. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

ARROW

 

It didn’t take long for everyone who was leaving Starling City for Beacon Hills to go home and get ready. Ray had offered his private plane for the journey to Sacramento, and Oliver had arranged for three hire cars to be waiting for them at the airport so they could drive the rest of the way.

 

It all seemed to be a blur for Thea, her mind still trying to process the news that Oliver and Felicity had delivered as she stood in the bedroom she and Roy shared at their apartment, the very same apartment that Robbie and Alex had been kidnapped from fifteen years earlier.

 

It was probably far too large an apartment for just two people, and more than one person had suggested they move out, but Thea hadn’t been able to deal with the idea at the time. Thea knew it was foolish, and very illogical, but she couldn’t help but think that, if she and Roy moved, the twins wouldn’t be able to find their way back home to them.   It was a stupid thought…They’d been barely one year old when they’d been taken, there was no way known the twins would have been able to remember their address, let along what the apartment looked like, especially after all this time.

 

Thea looked at the bedside table as she closed her suitcase, where a couple of framed photographs of the twins sat, as well as one taken of Thea and Roy together at Oliver and Felicity’s wedding. She walked up to the bedside table and picked up one of the photos, featuring the twins sitting next to one another, beaming up at the camera, building blocks scattered in front of them. It was Thea’s favorite photo of the twins, taken only a matter of weeks before the kidnapping had taken place. Tears welled in Thea’s eyes as she looked at the photo, remembering how small her baby boys had been back then.

 

They weren’t babies anymore though. Seeing photos of the boy, Jackson Whittemore, that could be Robbie had been a brutal reminder that the twins were now well into their teenaged years, and in only a few short years would be adults, all but fully grown up.

 

“You ok Thea?” Roy asked from the bedroom doorway, his voice filled with concern. Thea turned her head to face him, still holding the photograph in her arms. Roy strode across the room until he was beside her and enveloped her in a gentle hug.

 

“He’s grown up, Roy,” she sobbed, “It’s been such a long time…they’re not our boys anymore. They’re almost adults.”

 

“I know…I know,” Roy sympathized, rubbing Thea’s back gently.

 

“All those things that we were so excited about…we’ve missed them.   I’m happy that we’ve found them…one of them,” Thea corrected herself heavily, “and I know that this is better than nothing, but I just wish that they hadn’t been taken at all.”

 

“I wish the same thing…every day,” Roy agreed, “but we can’t do anything about it now. He might not be a baby, or even a little kid anymore, but he’s still ours.”

 

“I wonder what he’s like?” Thea thought aloud as she leaned against Roy, seeking the comfort of his presence.

 

“If the article that Felicity found is anything to go by, he’s good at lacrosse,” he helpfully offered.

 

Thea snorted, “Yes, there is that. At least we know something about him.”

 

“We’ll get to know him soon enough. Come on, you’ve got everything?”

 

Nodding, Thea sighed and set the photo back down on the bedside table, “Yes, I’m all done.”

 

Roy grabbed Thea’s suitcase for her, as well as his already packed duffle bag. Neither of them had added any weapons to their bags, knowing from experience that Oliver would have collected as much as they could take with them without risking getting caught and would probably have already stowed it on Ray’s private plane.

 

Together they made their way out of their apartment, locking the door securely behind them, and heading for the elevator to take them down to the ground floor. Before they walked out of the building, however, Roy pulled Thea close.

 

“”No matter what happens, Thea, whether it’s Robbie, or Alex, or not our kid at all, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It might not be him, but that doesn’t mean we give up hope.”

 

“I know,” Thea nodded, “It’s just…I miss them so much, Roy.   This morning, when Felicity and Oliver told us about what Felicity had found…I was so happy, I still am so happy that after all these years there is finally a lead that looks promising. I know that, realistically, it’s quite possible that it’s not one of our boys, or if it is one of the twins, then the other twin is dead, or that he wants absolutely nothing to do with us…and that’s the part that scares me.”

 

“If…if it is Robbie or Alex, and he doesn’t want anything to do with us, what are you going to do?”

  
Thea sighed, “It wasn’t that long ago that we were that age.   I know what I was like when I was sixteen…unless he has a horrible relationship with his parents, and he has no friends in Beacon Hills, he’s not going to want to come back with us. Even if his parents are arrested he still won’t want to come back with us. If there is no other option that is safe then he won’t have a choice, but if there is an option then…then I’ll let him take it.   I’m not going to force our son to come back with us if it’s not what he wants. It’ll only make him hate us even more than he probably already will for turning his whole life on its head.”

 

Roy nodded in agreement, putting his arms around Thea and kissing her tenderly, “It sucks, but that’s pretty much all we can do,” he admitted, “At least we’ll know...we’ll know that one of them made it.”

 

“Knowing that is more than we’ve ever had before.” Thea reasoned as they walked out of the apartment building. Sara was already parked out the front of the building, and Roy quickly loaded their things into the trunk of the car before he climbed into the back seat with Thea. Laurel had already claimed the front seat.

 

“Lyla is taking Oliver, Felicity and Diggle to the airstrip,” Sara explained as she pulled out onto the street and started heading out of town, towards the airstrip that Ray kept his plane at, “It shouldn’t take too long to get there.”

 

“How are you guys going?” Laurel cautiously asked.   Roy knew that everyone he and Thea were close to were always very careful with what they said, especially when it had something to do with the twins. There had been days when it had frustrated Roy to the point that he’d gone, alone, to Team Arrow’s current lair, and beaten the hell out of a training dummy until he worked it all off. More often than not, those sessions usually ended up in Roy breaking down and falling into a pathetic heap until someone, usually Oliver, although it was sometimes Sara, Diggle or occasionally Felicity came and found him and helped him through it.

 

“You knew that feeling when you’re really excited about something, but you’re so scared about it you feel like you’re about to crap yourself…that’s about how I’m feeling right now.”

 

Roy couldn’t help but snort, remembering Felicity using the exact same phrase to describe how she’d felt on the morning of her wedding to Oliver. Laurel and Sara both laughed in the front seats, having both been there to hear Felicity say it that day too.

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure that was the first time I heard Felicity swear,” Laurel admitted, wiping tears of mirth from her face.

 

Roy grinned, as Sara and Laurel fell into easy conversation that had nothing to do with the twins, but instead about Olivern Dand Felicity’s wedding, and weddings in general, coaxing Thea into it as well. He tuned out very quickly after that, looking out the window as Starling City passed by on the other side of the pane of glass.

 

Privately, Roy wondered what sort of life Jackson Whittemore had experienced leading up to now. Did the Whittemores love him? Had they abused him? Was he happy? What were his grades like? Was he popular? Did have a girlfriend?   Maybe a boyfriend?

 

The questions span on and on in Roy’s head until they began to make him feel sick, so he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the window.

 

Soon, he tried to tell himself, ‘we’ll find out everything soon.’


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Oliver, Felicity, Thea, Roy, Diggle and Laurel arrived in Beacon Hills the sun was hanging low in the sky.   Oliver had booked them into a motel on the outskirts of town, and they all stretched gratefully as they got out of the cars breathing in the warm, summer evening air.

 

“Seems like a nice enough place,’ Diggle observed, “It’s a big change from Starling City though.”

 

“I wouldn’t let your guard down too much,” Felicity cautioned, “the crime rate here has been trending upwards steeply of late…a little over a month ago a teenager went to the Sherriff’s department and shot the majority of the local police force. Only the Sherriff and two deputies were left alive, and the two deputies weren’t on duty at the time of the attack.”

 

“What happened to the kid?” Roy asked curiously, a frown on his face.

 

“Reports said he went and jumped in the river after the attack and he drowned.”

 

“Wow,” Thea cringed, “Do they know what caused him to attack the police?”

 

“No, but the case is still open and is being actively investigated. It’s got to be slow going though, with only three police left alive.   The attack on the police station isn’t even the only bad thing that’s happened here lately”

 

“We don’t know what’s going on here, so stay alert…we don’t want to get dragged into anything,” Oliver counseled.”

 

“When are we going to go and see the Whittemores?” Roy asked.   Oliver glanced over at Roy and Thea.   Both of them looked anxious at the prospect of finally seeing one of their boys again, he knew there was no way they would be getting any sleep tonight.   A quick look at his watch told him it wasn’t nearly too late to visit the Whittemore’s house and get a feel for it, maybe ask some questions.

 

“We could go now; It isn’t too late to ask some questions,” he told the rest of the group calmly. Thea’s face visibly brightened and her back straightened at his words.

 

“Do you mean it…we could see him tonight?”

 

“We might…except it’s a Friday night, during summer, when he’s sixteen, and potentially your kid,” Oliver teased, “What are the odds of him actually being at home with his parents?”

 

Laurel and Felicity both laughed, and Thea nodded.

 

“Fair point,” she admitted, “but it’s possible I suppose…I guess it would actually be better if he wasn’t there, it would leave us free to ask questions without worrying about him overhearing if the wrong thing gets said.”

 

Laurel nodded her head in agreement, “Thea’s right…we need to be careful with what we say,”

 

“And we also need to be careful in case the Whittemores were involved in the kidnapping,” Diggle added, “They went to all that effort to get the twins, and didn’t care who got hurt in the process, if they see us in Beacon Hills, if we start asking questions they’re not going to let us get the kid.”

 

“So, we go in prepared for that,” Roy shrugged, “hidden weapons, enough to get us out of trouble if it happens, but nothing obvious so they don’t feel threatened and start getting dangerous.”

 

Oliver felt pride course through him as he listened to Roy, putting whatever personal feelings he had about what they were about to do, and instead thinking calmly and logically about the situation.

 

“Sounds good, let’s go get ready.” Oliver informed the group, and they all split up to their motel rooms.

 

It didn’t take long for Oliver to get ready, changing into a clean shirt and a less rumpled pair of pants, tucking a knife into a sheath he had strapped to his leg, while tucking a gun into the back of his pants.   He would have preferred bringing his bow, but it was far from discrete, so instead he had to settle for his favorite gun. Laurel, Roy, Thea, and Diggle would all also be carrying guns, and Felicity had her tablet, prepared to hack into the Whittemore’s finances for leverage if it was needed.

 

Once he was prepared, Oliver and Felicity returned to the car park. Roy and Thea were already there, waiting beside one of the cars Oliver had hired. They and Laurel had driven down in that car, while Felicity and Diggle had travelled with Oliver.

 

Diggle arrived in the car park only a minute after Oliver and Felicity, and Laurel arrived not long after him. Together they all got into the two cars and drove towards the Whittemore’s residence, supplied helpfully by Felicity, although Oliver wasn’t sure where exactly she gained the information.   Over the years he’d learned it was best not to ask.

 

Knowing David Whittemore’s reputation as one of the best Lawyers in the state, Oliver wasn’t surprised when Felicity’s directions lead them into a wealthy suburb dotted with mansions.   They pulled up outside an especially large mansion, smaller than the Queen family mansion, where Oliver and Thea had grown up, but still large, with a fountain in the front yard, and three sports cars in the driveway. Together they all got out of the cars, looking up at the house speculatively.

 

“Well…at least he didn’t grow up in poverty…” Roy joked, although it fell flat and nobody laughed. It was obvious that the crime issues that plagued the town hadn’t ventured into this suburb, or at least that the Whittemore’s didn’t feel threatened by it, as the front fence of the property was only waist high on Oliver. The side, and presumably the back fences, however, were very high and made from large, sandy colored bricks, much like the bricks the house had been made of.

 

The majority of the windows on the ground floor of the house were illuminated, as well as a couple of lights on the upper level, although the curtains were drawn, so Oliver couldn’t see in through the windows from the street.

 

“Are you guys ready for this?” Oliver asked Thea and Roy. Thea looked a little pale, and Roy was biting his lip nervously, but there was no mistaking the determination on their faces. Oliver couldn’t blame them. This was the only lead they’d had in years, and the best lead they had gotten ever since the twins first disappeared.

 

“We’re ready,” Thea nodded, beginning to walk up the front path towards the house, Roy beside her. Oliver and the others followed in their footsteps as they walked up and onto the front porch. Thea’s finger hesitated over the doorbell button for a moment, before she pressed it, all of them hearing the sound of the doorbell going off from within the house.

 

The all stood in silence, waiting on the front porch of the mansion owned by the Whittemores, until the door was opened by David Whittemore himself. Oliver recognized the man from the images Felicity had shown him.

 

Oliver immediately noticed the frown on David Whittemore’s face when he saw the group standing on his front porch, and stepped forward casually.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Whittemore. My name is Oliver Queen, I’m the former CEO of Queen Consolidated in Starling City. I’ve heard that you’re that one of the best lawyers in the state.”

 

“Well…I like to think I am,” David Whittemore smiled, offering Oliver his hand to shake, “What can I do for you Mr. Queen?”

 

“I’m sorry to have come so late in the day, and without calling. I have a slight legal issue that I need to deal with here in California, and my friend Laurel here,” Oliver lied as he gestured towards Laurel, “didn’t feel like it was her area of expertise, and recommended that I look for you and ask if you would be interested in helping me out. You would of course be generously compensated for you time.”

 

David smiled and stepped out of the doorway, gesturing for Oliver and his companions to enter his home, “why don’t we discuss this over a drink?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Oliver beamed as he stepped over the threshold.   In inside of the mansion was even more opulent than the outside, with polished marble floors, and a wide staircase leading up to the second level. Once they were all inside, David Whittemore closed the front door and led Oliver and his team up the stairs and along a corridor, until they entered a large living room, where Louise Whittemore was sitting, drinking a glass of wine on a comfortable looking couch, flicking through a magazine that was spread in her lap.

 

“Louise, we have visitors.   Oliver Queen is here, he wants my help on a legal matter.”

 

“Oh, how nice,” Louise smiled brightly, although Oliver could tell she wasn’t completely genuine about it. He watched as she set the magazine she’d been reading aside and rose to her feet, sauntering across the room and offering her his hand.   Oliver remembered his mother’s long ago lectures on being a gentleman and he kissed the back of her hand politely. Louise let out a giggle.

 

“Such manners...it is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Queen.”

 

“Likewise, Mrs. Whittemore. Allow me to introduce my wife, Felicity, my sister Thea, her partner, Mr. Harper, and my associates, Ms. Lance and Mr. Diggle.”

 

“It’s very nice to meet you all, would any of you care for a drink?” Oliver watched David Whittemore as he held up a bottle of scotch he had retrieved from a table against the opposite wall. Oliver, along with everyone he’d arrived with politely declined. David Whittemore shrugged and poured himself a drink. Louise drained her glass of wine, and refilled it from a bottle next to the scotch.

 

“Please sit, make yourself comfortable,” David Whittemore offered, and Oliver sat down on a couch, Felicity on one side, Laurel on the other side. Roy, Thea and Diggle shared the other couch, while David and Louise sat in two leather armchairs, positioned so that they were all facing one another.

 

“You have a beautiful home,” Felicity complimented politely as the Whittemore’s sat down.

 

“Thank you, we’re very proud of it,” David Whittemore acknowledged  
  
“Is it just the two of you living here?” Thea asked.

 

Louise shook her head, “No, our son Jackson lives here too, he’s in his room at the moment, listening to music and being antisocial…I suppose that’s what being a teenager is all about I suppose.”

 

“I’m sure we can convince him to come out and listen in on our conversation…He’s sixteen, it’s past time he started learning about how the world works. I’m sure Mr. and Ms. Queen here knew far more about how the upper class did things when they were his age.” David Whittemore chuckled, sipping his scotch. Oliver watched as Louise glanced at her husband, before she rose off the chair and to her feet.

 

“I’ll go fetch him, I won’t be a moment.”

 

“Thank you, Louise,” David Whittemore smiled lovingly at his wife as she left the room, closing the door behind her. Oliver felt unease trickling down his back. It would be far too easy for Louise to get Jackson from his bedroom and leave the house while David Whittemore kept them occupied in the living room.

 

“I must admit…I was surprised when one of my informants at Sacramento airport called me and said that you and your friends had arrived on a private plane, and had hired cars. I thought after so many years you’d given up on ever finding one of the twins.” David Whittemore began, rising to his feet and walking away from Oliver and his team, so his back was to a wall almost filled with windows that looked out to the rear of his property. Oliver immediately tensed, and Felicity gave a stifled gasp. On the other couch Diggle had put his hands on both Roy and Thea’s shoulder’s ready to hold them back.

 

“How did you know we were coming here…or that this has anything to do with the twins?” Oliver asked. David Whittemore threw his head back and laughed, drawing a gun from a shoulder holster he’d kept covered with his suit.

 

“What other reason would you have for being in this town? I am fully aware of my reputation, but I struggle to find a logical reason why you would go to me for legal help when you could go to someone in Starling City, or at least a little closer…also, if this was a legal matter, why would you bring your wife, your sister, and your sister’s boyfriend, as well as a lawyer friend and a bodyguard?”

 

The door opened once again, and Oliver was surprised to see Louise Whittemore return, a teenaged boy that was the same boy that was in the picture that started everything. Oliver couldn’t believe how much like a teenaged Roy the teenager…almost certainly Robbie, looked.

 

“Ah, Jackson, just in time,” David greeted the teenager casually, as if he wasn’t holding a gun in his hand. Jackson’s gaze however, fixed on the weapon, and he frowned in confusion.

 

“Dad…what the hell is going on?”

 

“It’s time you learned some things, son, now just shut up and listen.”

 

Jackson looked towards Oliver and his group, his eyes skimming over them until his gaze lingered on Roy.

 

“Dad…what the hell?”  


“Shhh…listen to your father” Louise hissed, gripping Jackson’s arm tightly, all of her former pleasantness and politeness, however false, now gone as David Whittemore lifted his gun and pointed it towards Oliver.

 

“Now…in answer to your question, the reason they are here is because they think they can claim you back from me, as if you were a dog that was lost and ended up in the pound, as if it hadn’t been fifteen years since any of them have even laid eyes on you.”

 

“What? What are you talking about?”

 

“You seriously didn’t believe that bullshit story we told you about the Millers, did you? I expected better, but then, considering who you are related to, maybe I shouldn’t have. You always were a disappointment, weren’t you?”

 

Jackson’s face fell, “The Millers…my real parents? What do they have to do with this?”

 

“Nothing, or very little, if anything,” David Whittemore shrugged, “The Millers were just a cover story, an convenient add on to the story we told everyone when we arrived in town with you, to stop people from looking into it.”

 

“A…a cover story…the Millers weren’t my real parents?” Jackson asked faintly, looking from Louise, to David, and then across at Roy, having obviously noticed the resemblance. Oliver, not daring to move to quickly, could only watch, and Diggle was still holding Thea and Roy back, although Oliver could see Thea shaking her head, tears shining in her eyes as she watched the boy who was almost certainly her son try and understand what was going on around him, even as his entire world was turned upside down.

 

“No. Your real parents, I’m sure you’ve guessed, are sitting on the couch in front of you now.”

 

“Robbie?” Thea choked out from where she sat, while Roy watched on, his eyes filled with pain as he watched Robbie…Jackson, try to process the truth. Louise Whittemore chose that moment to casually saunter back to her chair and sit down, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

 

“Who are they?” Jackson asked, determination flashing across his face, setting his jaw stubbornly in an expression that was so similar to a young Roy when he was angry about something.

 

“Thea Queen and Roy Harper.”

 

“Queen…as in Starling City Queen?”

 

“That’s the one,” David smirked.

 

Oliver could only watch as the teenager’s face fell, his skin going pale. The story of what happened to Roy and Thea’s children was well known, even outside Starling City.   Very few people Robbie’s age didn’t know the story, and he could tell, by the look on the teenager’s face, that he’d made the connection.”

 

“You…you called me Robbie…I’m…I’m one of the twins?”

 

“Robbie,” Thea began, pushing Diggle’s hand off her arm and rising to her feet.

 

David Whittemore, however, shook his head, “Nu-uh, you just sit back down, Ms. Queen,” he ordered, swinging the gun around until it was pointed at Jackson, pulling back the hammer. Both Thea and her son froze, before Thea hastily dropped into her chair.

 

“Dad?” Jackson asked, his voice thick with fear and anxiety.

 

“You wouldn’t seriously shoot the kid you’ve raised for the last fifteen years?” Oliver exclaimed, his gaze flicking between David Whittemore and the teenager. David shrugged, and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed in his ears, joined only moments later by a second shot. Thea’s scream pierced the air as Jackson dropped to the ground, his right hand reaching up to cover his badly bleeding left shoulder. Had the bullet hit only an inch lower Oliver was fairly certain Jackson would be dead already.

 

As it was Jackson stayed on his knees, his breath coming in uneven pants as he looked fearfully up at David Whittemore. Oliver could see the blood streaming down Jackson’s right arm as well, stemming from the second wound, which looked as though it had grazed the teenager’s bicep.

 

“Is that enough proof that I would shoot the little shit…now, while we’re at it, I want you to remove all of the weapons I’m sure you have on you…I’m not stupid enough to think that you’ve come unarmed.”

 

Oliver turned his head, glancing at Diggle and giving a slight inclination of his head. At the same time they began removing their weapons, setting them down on the coffee table in front of them. Roy, Thea and Laurel hesitantly followed their lead until they were all unarmed.

 

“Why the hell did you shoot me?” Jackson yelled, his voice thick and strained from the immense pain he was going through, “What point does that prove, other than you’re nuts?”    

 

“No matter how this played out, it was always going to end with you dying, Jackson. The plan always was for, whenever your family found you, it would be to see you being killed, or better yet, already dead.”

 

“But why…what the hell did they do to you?”

 

“I suppose that question should be answered. It all started way before you were born, before any of you were born. I met both Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn when I was studying law at Harvard. They were both studying business, and we became friends. It was through myself that Malcolm met Rebecca, whom he later married. I always disapproved of the match, knowing that Malcolm had a roving eye when it come to the girls on campus, but Rebecca was infatuated with him, and I thought that maybe she would be good for him.   I will admit that I was jealous of their relationship. Rebecca and I had been friends for many years, and there was a time when I was certain I was in love with her, although after her marriage I came to realize I loved her more as a sister than anything else.   At first everything seemed to be going well. They got married, and eventually had young Thomas. Rebecca struggled after the birth of her son, I believe she had a form of Post natal depression, although she was never diagnosed or treated with anything that would help with that,” a sad look crossed David Whittemore’s face, but it soon passed, his brows furrowing in anger.

 

“She called me up often though, distraught, quite often drunk, convinced that Malcolm was cheating on her, or that he didn’t love her anymore. He spent all of his time at his office, telling her he was working, and that he’d spend more time with her and their baby when things were less busy, although it never happened. I resolved to confront Malcolm about it, but then Rebecca seemed to get better. She threw herself into her philanthropic work, there was nothing Rebecca liked more than helping those less fortunate…it made her truly unique amongst those of my social standing, and into caring for her son, right up until the day she died. When I learned that Malcolm didn’t accept her call that day I had never been so furious. I went to Starling City and confronted him, berating him for his treatment of her. Malcolm slammed the door in my face. I swore then that I would get revenge for Rebecca, that I would get Malcolm Merlyn back for how he treated her.   I thought Malcolm carried out Rebecca’s revenge himself, with his foolish desire to level the glades resulted in his death at the hands of the Starling City Vigilante, and for quite some time I thought him to be dead….he deserved it.   That atrocity wasn’t what Rebecca would have wanted, especially when her own son got killed in the middle of it.   Like everyone else I believed him to be dead. It was only when I was in Starling City for business reasons and I caught a glimpse of him out the corner of my eye.   I got a friend to do some digging, and the truth came out. Malcolm Merlyn was not quite as dead as he would like to be…and I also discovered some more interesting information.”

 

David smirked and looked directly at Thea, “I wonder how dear old Robert would have reacted the day his wife told him that she was pregnant with his supposed best friend’s child, assuming that she even told him, proof of a wife’s betrayal to her husband, and a man’s betrayal of a woman I loved. It’s funny how the timing worked out. Only a few days after I made my discovery I turned on my TV and found Thea Queen’s face sprawled all over the news, announcing that a new Queen heir was on the way, due early in the new year. The secret daughter of Malcolm Merlyn was pregnant, and I had an avenue for my revenge. Over a year of careful planning and paying off the right people later, after getting the right people on my side, I finally had what I wanted, Malcolm Merlyn’s grandchild to keep with me, to raise as my own until such time that he was rescued, and then Malcolm, and his family, would know the pain of losing someone they held dear. My only regret is that Malcolm isn’t here to witness his grandson’s death, it would have been the perfect end to it all.”

 

Throughout David’s whole speech Oliver kept an eye on his nephew, trying to gauge how much blood the teenager had lost. His skin was alarmingly pale, but Oliver wasn’t certain how much of that was due to blood loss, or the shock of having his entire life turned upside down.

 

“All of this over something that happened, what, 40 years ago?” Jackson frowned, “you’re crazy.”

 

“David, murdering an innocent teenager isn’t what Rebecca would have wanted,” Oliver tried to reason, but David snarled and fired the gun again, although this time Jackson ducked, the bullet hitting the wall behind him without making contact.  

 

“Dad, please just stop,” Jackson snapped, “what the hell do you want…nobody’s doing anything, ok, we’re all doing what you want.”

 

“Except you…why don’t you just shut up? For the last fifteen years all we’ve done is try to keep you occupied, so you would leave us alone. We got you everything you wanted, didn’t we? We gave you space, let you be your own person. What more could you have wanted”

 

“Uh…genuine affection, maybe?” Robbie spat, “and people wonder why I haven’t told either of you I love you since I was seven. Did you know that you guys haven’t told me you loved me since I was five? Over ten freaking years ago. I was glad when you told me about the Millers…I was glad that you robots weren’t actually my parents…that maybe, before I was born, I was actually loved. I always used to wonder why the hell you took me in if you didn’t plan on loving me at all…I guess now I know. You…the both of you, can rot in hell.”

 

“We’ll see you there,” David Whittemore scowled, leveling his handgun at the teenager's head and pulling the hammer back. Oliver glanced across at Roy, Thea, and Diggle, giving them the slightest inclination of his head. Thea blinked in response, while Roy visibly tensed in his position in readiness        

 

Without a word Oliver jumped forward, reaching for a weapon to use against David Whittemore…anything to save the teenager currently trapped in the madman’s sights. On the other couch Roy, Thea, and Diggle had started moving at the exact same time. Roy bypassed the weapons and went straight for Whittemore, grabbing the arm that was holding the gun and jerking it so it wasn’t pointed at anyone before Whittemore fired the gun, hitting the large light in the centre of the room, and plunging the room into darkness. Oliver heard something smash, but that was the last thing he heard, as something heavy smashed into his head and sent him into oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

Jackson stumbled weakly to his feet, wincing as shards of glass cut into his feet. He didn’t dare linger long though. He started moving away from the house, not trusting himself to look back.

 

The moment Oliver Queen had leapt forward from his position on the couch; Jackson had tensed, ready to make his escape in the confusion that was sure to follow. Sure enough, the moment his father fired the gun into the light, Jackson turned to his left, away from the violence, and jumped through the large window he’s been lying beside, plummeting down and landing hard on the concrete paving that served as their outdoor entertaining space. Judging from the shouts and sounds of ongoing violence, Jackson’s disappearance had gone unnoticed but he didn’t trust his luck in thinking that it would last long.

 

Taking full advantage of his brand new werewolf powers, Jackson fled the fight, running along the concrete until it stopped, and the back garden began. He didn’t stop there, slipping into the garden and weaving through the plants until he reached the high wall that served as his back fence. On the other side of the fence was the Beacon Hills reserve…Pack Land, and safety.

 

Gritting his teeth against the screaming pain of his injuries, Jackson jumped up, barely catching the top of the tall fence with his nails. Slowly he began to pull himself up, his nails elongating into claws to make the process easier.

 

Even with his werewolf strength Jackson was panting as he reach the top of the wall, the two bullet wounds bleeding heavily, staining his shirt a dark red color. Fighting off the dizziness the pain from the injuries was giving him, Jackson jumped off the wall, landing in a crouch on the other side, his feet crunching on some twigs that had fallen from a nearby tree.

 

Keeping low, Jackson began to run, going as fast as his injuries allowed him to, while at the same time trying to process everything he’d learned ever since his mother…no..Since Louise had asked him to join her and David in the formal sitting room.

 

Jackson had known that David and Louise were not his biological parents since he was seven, but he’d always thought that the Millers were his biological parents…that they’d been in a car accident in South Africa, and his father had died on impact, and his mother had barely survived the trip to hospital. She’d died on the operating table, as the doctors had preformed a c-section to deliver her child...him, or so he thought.

 

Now though, he was being told his parents were alive…that he was one of the famous missing Harper-Queen twins…Robbie, Thea Queen had called him, he was Robbie.

 

Even as the thought of the name it felt…right. Deep within him he felt his wolf sniff in appreciation. His inner wolf had been so close to the surface ever since he’d seen David Whittemore pull out a gun, and frankly Jackson was amazed that he’d managed to prevent himself from wolfing out and killing everyone.

 

As he ran Jackson misjudged the distance between himself and the trees he was passing, and slammed his injured shoulder into a tree. He couldn’t hold back the howl of pain that escaped his lips as he tightened his grip on his shoulder, only moving his hand in order to check on the injury. It was still bleeding, although the blood loss had started to ease, or so Jackson thought. He exhaled, shaking his head ruefully. He hadn’t even known David Whittemore owned a gun. He might have never really gotten much in the way of affection from the Whittemore’s, but he’d never expected to get shot…for them to actually try to kill him.

 

Jackson felt remorse as he realized that this must be what Isaac felt like, for all those years, and Jackson hated himself for not doing more for the other teenager, for his packmate.

 

Stumbling slightly, Jackson began to run once again, not really planning where he was going, but at the same time trusting his new instincts, letting them guide him. As he crossed the invisible line between the public reservation, and Hale land, it became obvious where exactly he was heading. His inner wolf was guiding him back to its alpha, seeking the comfort, reassurance and safety that only an alpha would provide.

 

By the time Jackson was drawing close to the Hale house he knew that blood loss and shock were taking their toll. He couldn’t run anymore, only stumble onwards, his vision swimming and graying alarmingly, tilting to and fro in a way that made him feel very seasick.

 

A bang from ahead, followed by a loud howl…Derek...startled Jackson as he slumped against a tree, not even able to keep his head up anymore. Everything seemed to fade out, and Jackson felt himself slipping from his position against a tree, until large hands caught him.

 

“Jackson?” a confused voice asked him, “Jackson…what happened…Jackson snap out of it…wake up,” the voice growled. Jackson forced his eyes to open, looking up to see that Derek was the one holding him upright.

 

“Who shot you…was it hunters?” Derek demanded urgently.

 

Jackson shook his head, “not hunters,” he rasped out, his attention flickering over Derek’s shoulder, where Peter and Isaac were standing. Peter didn’t look shocked, but Isaac’s eyes were wide and fearful as they took in Jackson’s bloodied body. Jackson tore his gaze away from the other teenager, guilt washing his senses again at the sight of Isaac, who had been treated ever worse by his father.

 

“It was my dad…adopted dad,” Jackson explained in a quiet voice, knowing that Derek, Peter and Isaac would all be able to hear him. He gazed blearily up at Derek for a few moments as shock flittered across the Alpha’s face, before his eyes rolled back in his head, and everything went dark.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Oliver let out a low moan of pain as he slowly became aware of things once again, the throbbing of his head telling him that he’d been knocked unconscious by something, if experience was anything to go by. He fluttered his eyes open, relief washing over him when he saw Felicity crouching over him, running her fingers through his hair.

 

“Hey, you’re okay,” she reassured gently, “Just, stay still for now, you’ve been out for a few minutes.”

  
“What happened?”

 

“We think Louise Whittemore hit you over the head with her wine bottle, but it was too dark for anyone to see.”

 

“The kid…is he okay?”

 

“He…he’s gone Oliver. By the time Diggle found the switch for a lamp the Whittemores had fled, and Robbie…Jackson…he’d jumped out the window.”

 

Oliver snapped to full awareness at Felicity’s words, “is he ok?”

 

“Well…he was ok enough to get up and walk away,” Laurel ventured as she walked into the room, a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel in her hands. She passed the improvised cold compress to Felicity, who tenderly pressed it against Oliver’s head. The cool eased the throbbing, and Oliver closed his eyes in relief.

 

“Walked away?’

 

“He left a blood train, but he was moving pretty quickly. He made it to the back fence and looks like he climbed it and escaped into the reserve. I doubt any of us will find him now, it’s practically pitch black out there. With the exception of you and Diggle none of us are trained for actually tracking someone through a forest, even with a blood trail. Thea, Roy and I are more urban specialists,” Laurel admitted.

 

“At least we’ve got a DNA sample to test and compare against Roy and Thea’s now,” Felicity offered, showing Oliver a sealed, clear evidence bag that contained bloodied tissues and a few blood stained bits of glass.

 

“What about David and Louise Whittemore?” Oliver asked, slowly sitting up, “has anyone reported the gunshots?”

 

“I hacked the local police radio band…no reports of gunshots, nothing out of the ordinary. Diggle and Roy chased them for a bit, but they managed to get away.    

Oliver’s eyebrows quirked in surprise. Although not quite as fast as he had been as a twenty year old, Roy was still pretty quick, and still considerably younger than both of the Whittemores.

 

“It was obvious they didn’t have the kid with them, and Roy was more worried about finding out where his kid was and making sure he was ok than chasing his abductors,” Laurel explained, “Diggle called off the chase before they got too far from the house.”

 

“Where are Roy and Thea now?”

 

“Checking the rest of the house for clues,” Felicity promptly replied, setting a steadying hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

 

Oliver swallowed, “Did…did any of you notice how Alex wasn’t mentioned in his entire speech?” he asked quietly, so that Thea and Roy wouldn’t overhear him.

 

Felicity’s face fell, and Laurel cringed sympathetically, “He might still be alive out there,” she offered, “almost everyone had given up on both of them, yet Robbie is still alive. Maybe Alex is still out there too.”

 

“David Whittemore would have bragged about it if we hadn’t found him yet,” Oliver shook his head, “I…I just wish he’d said, one way, or the other…it would have brought closure. Having Robbie back is more than I ever hoped for, but.”    

 

“But it still hurts more than anything,” Roy agreed from the doorway, Thea standing at his side, her hands stained with blood.

 

“We looked all through the garden…he’s not hiding somewhere on the property. Diggle was right when he said that he’s climbed the fence.”

 

“After he’s been shot in the shoulder, and with a bullet graze in the other arm?” Oliver asked.

 

Roy shrugged, “It’s what it looks like from the blood trail. Diggle was even able to track it through the woods for a bit before he lost it.

 

“Hopefully he’s heading for a hospital,” Laurel reasoned, “He’ll get the help he needs there.”

 

“We need someone with more local knowledge of the case…we should go to the local police, especially now that we know that it, apparently, has nothing to do with Arrow business. We haven’t done anything wrong, legally speaking. Captain Lance can back up our story, and we have this as well,” Felicity held up her phone, “I was recording everything from the moment David Whittemore opened up his front door.”

 

“Felicity’s right,” Roy nodded, “we don’t have the local knowledge. Besides if Robbie…Jackson…shows up at the hospital, the cops will get involved anyway, and if we go to the cops they’ll be less likely to think we were the ones to hurt him. We audio evidence that proves we didn’t, and that might make them more willing to help us.”

 

“Ok, we’ll go to the local cops. Hopefully they’ll believe what we tell them…and that the Whittemores haven’t gotten there first.”


	6. Chapter 6

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise as Jackson suddenly slumped and went limp in his arms, his full weight being held up by the alpha werewolf. He hoisted the limp teenager a little higher in his arms, practically in a bridal hold.

 

“We need to get him inside,” Peter told his nephew, “can you smell wolfsbane?”

 

“No,” Derek replied, turning and walking back towards the house, Peter and Isaac trailing behind him.

 

“Is he going to be ok? I thought we had, like, super healing powers.”

 

Derek didn’t respond to the question, so Peter let out a heavy sigh, “There are limitations. It looks like he’s lost a lot of blood…but he’s only passed out, though, he’ll be fine, once he wakes up.”

 

“Do you think he was lying…when he said it was his dad who did this?” Isaac asked as they climbed up the steps onto the front porch. Derek shouldered the door open and walked into what was left of the living room, carefully laying Jackson down on what was left of the couch.

  
“His heart rate didn’t jump when he spoke,” Derek replied, “and he wasn’t in the condition to disguise that if he was lying. Go and get the first aid kit.”

 

Isaac scurried away to fetch the large first aid kit that Derek had brought, admittedly with Stiles in mind. If the human insisted on running around with werewolves, then he was bound to get hurt sometimes. Unsheathing his claws, Derek cut Jackson’s bloodstained shirt, tearing it away from the unconscious teenager until his chest and arms were exposed

 

“What would cause David Whittemore to shoot his kid?” Peter frowned as the two bullet holes were exposed, one in Jackson’s left shoulder, close to his chest, while the other was shallower, grazing Jackson’s right bicep, “I knew him before the fire…we sometimes played poker together, and he did some legal work for your parents when you were young.”

 

“People change,” Derek shrugged as Isaac returned with the first aid kit and wordlessly passed it to Derek, who opened it up and began washing out the wounds with saline and gauze, before he bandaged over the wounds, already showing signs of healing.

 

“Isaac, I want you to call Lydia, and to tell her to come up here. She is his anchor, she should be here when he wakes up. Call the others too; if his father has somehow figured everything out and has sided with hunters then we should be together.”

“If it’s the same to you, Derek, I might leave you to it; see what I can find out in town. Certain members of your pack are a little uncomfortable around me, for some reason I cannot comprehend,” Peter said

 

“You bit Scott, you hurt Lydia, you kidnapped Stiles and threatened to bite him, and then you terrorized Lydia again…I think their mistrust in you is warranted, even ignoring the fact that you murdered my sister…your niece…to become alpha.”

 

“All valid points…I’ll be in touch,” Peter conceded before he slunk out of the ruins. Isaac had his phone out and had started making phone calls, so Derek sighed and looked at his unconscious beta.

 

Something wasn’t right about this whole situation, but Derek had no idea about what it was.

 

TEEN WOLF/ARROW

 

“Dude…why are you calling…I was sleeping,” Stiles Stilinski protested once he had located his phone and answered it, putting an end to its endless ringing. He’d fallen asleep during a Dr. Who marathon that was being shown on TV, waiting for his dad to come home. It had only just gone midnight after all.

 

“Derek wants everyone up at the house…Jackson’s been hurt,” Isaac reported in reply.

 

“Is he ok…is Lydia there?” Stiles asked, sitting upright in bed in alarm. He didn’t like Jackson, even though he was technically a member of Derek’s pack now, but Stiles knew…painfully clearly, how Lydia felt about Jackson.

 

“She’s on her way. She’s picking up Boyd, Erica and Scott on the way up to the house. Jackson’s been shot twice, but it wasn’t with wolfsbane bullets, luckily. He’s already looking a lot better than what he did when Derek found him in the woods, and Derek says he’ll be fine, but he’s still unconscious.”

 

“Wait…unconscious?” Stiles physically couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his face as he began hastily getting dressed, the prospect of seeing Jackson unconscious waking him up completely.

 

His glee must have shown in his voice, because Isaac snorted, “yeah…kind of disappointed I didn’t have my phone on me when Derek full on bridal carried him up to the house…don’t worry, I’ve taken lots of photos for bribery purposes though.

 

“You have done well, my padawan,” Stiles praised gleefully, grabbing his car keys and clattering down stairs, “is there anything you need me to grab?”

 

“No, I think we’re good here.”

 

“Alright, “I’ll see you soon then,” Stiles slipped out the front door, locking it behind him, before he jumped the stairs off the porch and hurried towards the Jeep, not even noticing the pair of individuals watching him from the shadows.

 

Fumbling with his keys, Stiles stood beside the jeep, until he finally found the key for the jeep’s door, but just as he finally found it, he heard something behind him. Before he had the chance to turn around he felt something that felt suspiciously like a hand grip his hair and slam his head into the side of the jeep.

 

Immediately intense pain flared in Stiles’ skull, the most painful part being the front of his head, where his head had been shoved into the hard, metal side of the vehicle. In surprise Stiles dropped his phone, dazed by the impact. As whoever it was that had attacked him gripped his hair even tighter and jerked his head back Stiles could feel moisture…almost certainly blood, trickling down his forehead. Stiles didn’t have time to focus on that, or the throbbing of his head, as a damp cloth was pressed over his mouth.

 

Initially Stiles thought it was there to stifle his screams, perhaps as he was brutally murdered and left for his dad to find, but then he inhaled, and smelled the sickly sweet odor of chloroform. Almost immediately his world began to darken, and Stiles’ limbs went limp, his full body weight being held up by his attacker, who let him slump to the ground beside the Jeep. Stiles didn’t feel the impact of his body hitting the ground, though…by then he was already unconscious.


	7. Chapter 7

****

Watching Sherriff John Stilinski wearily rub his hand over his face was enough to make Roy reconsider his decision to support Felicity’s suggestion to involve the local law enforcement officers in the case. The man looked weary, although it was understandable. There were still bullet holes in the walls of the Sherriff’s department from the shooting, only a few weeks ago.

 

When the Sherriff had arrives at the Whittemore’s house, as usual, Oliver had done most of the talking, supported occasionally by Felicity, with her tablet and her audio recording on her phone, and Laurel, when a bit of legal jargon was needed. Roy, Thea, and Diggle all remained quiet, watching and thinking. The Sherriff had taken one good look at the living room, where it had all happened, sighed, and then called in the crime scene techs. Once they’d arrives, he transferred the crime scene over to them, and invited everyone back to his office for further discussions,

 

“Ok, so we’ve got a kid, multiple gunshot injuries, running around the reserve, bleeding out, that may be one of your kidnapped nephews.” The Sherriff summarized.

 

“David Whittemore practically admitted to being involved in the kidnapping,” Oliver pointed out. Felicity had played her recording for them all to listen too, and the Sherriff still looked a little pale after listening to it.

 

“Right. I’ll call in as many people as I can…I am significantly understaffed at the moment. I’ll also call a few of his friends…his best friend and his girlfriend…they might know where he is…hell, it’s possible he’s hidden out at one of their houses.”

 

“Do you know Jackson well?” Roy asked curiously.

 

The Sherriff shrugged, ‘I’ve known of him for years…he and my son are in the same year level at school.   They didn’t get along very well though.”

 

“Hang on…Stilinski…your son was the one that Jackson had the restraining order on?”

 

“Yes, but apparently he had it removed, a couple of days after the lacrosse final. Maybe being on the championship winning team made things forgiven. I was surprised when David Whittemore came in and told me that Jackson had practically ordered him to get rid of the order. Lately that man seems to have been doing that a lot.” The Sherriff shot a dark look at Felicity’s phone, sitting innocently on his desk.

 

“You make your phone calls; we need to make some of our own.” Oliver offered, leading the way out of the Sherriff’s office, the rest of the team followed him out, with Roy brining up the rear, sneakily dropping a bug beneath the Sherriff’s desk on his way out, closing the door behind him. Due to the lateness of the hour, and the staffing shortage, the Sherriff was the only one at the department, and with the Sherriff in his personal office, it meant that they were now alone.

 

Oliver, Felicity, Thea and Laurel all already had their phones out, calling Barry, Sara, Ray and Captain Lance respectively.   Roy and Diggle, however, slid earpieces into their ears, so they could listen to what was going on within the Sherriff’s office.

 

The first thing the Sherriff did was murmur to himself something along the line of ‘being too old for this crap,’ before he made a phone call to the hospital. From the one side of the conversation Roy could hear it didn’t sound like anyone fitting his son’s description had shown up needing treatment for gunshot wounds. It still felt like a punch in the gut to Roy though, knowing that his teenaged son hadn’t yet received medical treatment for his wounds.

 

Roy didn’t know if he would be able to cope if Robbie died the very same night that he’d learned that Roy and Thea were his parents. Roy’s throat tightened and he lost track of what was going on in the Sherriff’s office as he thought of Robbie, lying alone in the forest, bleeding out from his wounds, alone and confused as his heart slowly slowed to a stop. For the first time Roy wondered if they’d made the right choice coming to Beacon Hills so soon after finding Robbie. Should they have hung back and waited, watching from a distance to get more information before they’d barged in? If they’d taken more time, or even waited until they knew he wasn’t in the house, Robbie wouldn’t have been shot, and now they wouldn’t be in this situation, trying to find Robbie before he bled out, or David and Louise Whittemore found him and took him again.

 

Some of his distress must have shown on his face, because Roy felt Diggle touch his arm, his face filled with concern, “Hey, we’ll find him, ok? Don’t give up on the kid yet.”

 

Roy forced himself to let out a shaky breath, before focusing on what was going on in the Sherriff’s office.

 

“He’s called in his two deputies, they’ll be here soon,” Diggle told him quietly, filling him in on what had happened while Roy was panicking, “and he’s called the state troopers in from Sacramento to help with the search, they’ll be here in two hours with tracking dogs. He’s just pacing around his office now.”

 

Having finished her call to Captain Lance, Felicity joined Diggle and Roy, her tablet out as she hacked into both the Sherriff’s landline phone, and also his mobile.

 

“He’s, making another call on his landline…number is registered to the Mahealani household,” Felicity reported, “Mr. Mahealani is the mayor of Beacon Hills, but he has a son, Daniel, who is sixteen, He’s a student at Beacon Hills High, and he was on the Lacrosse team with Jackson…Robbie. They’re often photographed together, according to Jackson’s facebook page. They live not too far from the Whittemore residence.”

 

“Probably his friend then,” Diggle nodded. Roy was inclined to agree, and thought that Sherriff Stilinski was doing the right thing. Robbie was a frightened and injured sixteen year old boy, his best friend’s house was a logical place for him to stop.

 

Heart in mouth, Roy listened as the Sherriff greeted whoever it was that answered the phone, Mayor Mahealani by the sound of it, although it sounded like the mayor handed the phone over to his son not very far into the conversation.

 

It didn’t sound very promising, as it seemed that Daniel hadn’t seen or heard from his best friend since earlier that day, although something he said must have triggered some alarms within the Sherriff.

 

“What do you mean he’s been acting strange lately?” he asked the teenager he was talking too. Roy wished he could hear the other side of the conversation, rather than just hoping that the Sheriff repeated something of importance.

 

“Why would he, all of a sudden, want to start hanging out with Scott, Stiles, Isaac, Erica and Boyd?” the Sherriff asked suddenly, his voice thick with confusion. Diggle’s eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise, and Felicity frowned thoughtfully.

 

“I know it probably has nothing to do with what happened tonight, but that sounded like quite a recent thing…and that the Sherriff’s son obviously hadn’t told him about it,” she pointed out. Roy knew it wasn’t a significant detail…a glance at the roster displayed on the wall told him that the Sherriff had spent a lot of time at work in the last week, and probably had since the station got attacked, and, well sixteen year olds were rarely fully open with their parents about who they were friends with, but it was still worthy of making a mental note of.

 

Obviously Daniel Mahealani had no other information to give, because the Sherriff hung up.

 

“Ok…injured teenager, probably scared as hell, world literally turned upside down…girlfriend or pseudo new friend with a mother who is a nurse?” The Sherriff asked himself thoughtfully, “or, God forbid, pseudo new friend whose father is a Sherriff? Hmmm…Girlfriend…then Scott, then Stiles, who better start praying he isn’t involved this time. For once can’t I have a case that doesn’t involve him?”

 

“Sounds like he’s got his hands full,” Diggle observed as things in the Sherriff’s office went quiet again

 

“He’s calling someone, the Martin residence, home of Natalie Martin, and a daughter, Lydia, same age as Jackson and Daniel…Also if Facebook is accurate the on and off girlfriend of Jackson.”

 

“Are they on or off at the moment?” Diggle asked.

 

“According to his Facebook, and hers as well, on, as of the day after the Lacrosse final,” Felicity replied.

 

“Hello, Natalie, it’s Sherriff Stilinski here…I was wondering I could talk to Lydia please, Jackson has gone missing,” Sherriff Stilinski spoke inside his office, his call obviously being answered.

 

“She’s gone over to Erica’s…ok then, thanks for that. Bye” He followed up with, apparently confirming he’d heard the response correctly before hanging up.

 

“Crap…alright…Scott, at least I can try his cell if he’s not at home.” The Sherriff mumbled to himself, his voice becoming a little more desperate. Roy appreciated his effort; at least the man was taking the situation seriously. Some of the cops wouldn’t bother with a missing person’s case when it related to a teenager unless 24 hours, or more, had passed.

 

“He’s making another call…this time to a McCall residence.”

 

“The other co-captain was named Scott McCall,” Roy offered helpfully.

 

“According to his facebook, Scott is best friends with the Sherriff’s son,”

 

“Probably why the Sherriff already has his cell number,” Diggle nodded as the Sherriff greeted someone named Melissa.

 

“Hey Melissa, I’m sorry to bother you on your night off, but you don’t have Jackson there, do you? He’s gone missing, and there are concerns that he’s pretty badly hurt.”

 

“Any chance Scott might know where he is? According to Danny Mahealani they’re all friends now.” The Sherriff asked after a short pause, his voice hopeful, however Roy was pretty sure that, when the Sherriff next spoke, disappointment would be written across his features.

 

“Lydia picked him up? Was Stiles with her?”

 

“Alright, I’ll try Scott’s cell and then I’ll try Stiles...why they always seem to be in the middle of everything? Thanks for your help, Mel…I’ll talk to you soon.”  


“He just hung up,” Felicity informed Roy, who was frowning at Diggle.

 

“Looking more and more likely that the Sherriff’s kid is involved, somehow,” Diggle observed

 

“Maybe someone is lying. He could have gone anywhere,” Roy sighed.

 

Oliver and Thea approached the little group, having ducked outside to pass sample of Jackson’s blood Felicity had collected to Barry Allen, who had run down from Central City, and was now speeding back to Starling City, and Ray, to test it.

 

“Any sign of him yet?”

 

“He’s calling all of Jackson’s friends, nothing yet. Apparently he’s been acting strange in the last few weeks, and has made some new friends…the Sherriff’s son is among them.”

 

Oliver’s brow quirked, but he didn’t say anything as Thea walked to Roy, who put his arms around her comfortingly as she pressed her face into his chest.

 

“We’ll find him, we will,” Oliver told them, “We’ve come way too close after so many years, we aren’t going to lose him now. We’ll know for certain if Jackson is Robbie or Alex in an hour or so. ”

 

“What do we do if the Whittemores find him?” Laurel asked as, within the office, The Sherriff tried calling Scott McCall’s mobile.

 

“Ray is going to contact Lyla, and she’s going to get ARGUS to look for them, and keep us informed,” Thea told the group, straightening her back, and shifting away from Roy, although she didn’t leave his side. Roy kept an arm slung over her shoulders, knowing that Thea would appreciate the gesture.

 

“Hey, Scott, it’s Sherriff Stilinski, if you could give me a call back as soon as possible I would really appreciate it,” the Sherriff said in his office, obviously having reached Scott McCall’s message bank, before he hung up and cursed.

 

“Crap…Stiles, you better not be hiding Jackson. Now is not the time to prove your loyalty to your new friend, or whatever.”

 

“He’s calling his son now,” Felicity reported, watching her tablet.

 

“Come on, come on, answer the phone, Stiles…Answer the phone…just answer it, for God’s sake. Ah Crap, Stiles its dad, call me back as soon as possible.   It is important.”  

 

“Just hung up, must have gone to message bank,” Felicity informed them, “he’s just dialed his home number.”

 

“What is the point of all teenagers having phones if they don’t answer them,” the Sherriff grumbled, his footsteps being picked up by the bug Roy dropped as he paced around the office, before Roy saw him approaching the door. He and Diggle hastily removed their earpieces, showing them in the pockets as the Sherriff opened the door to his office.

 

“No luck with Jackson’s friends, unfortunately, although there’s definitely something unusual going on, although that’s no different than it has been lately,” the Sherriff told them, leaning against an empty desk,

 

“I contacted Captain Lance, of Starling City P.D., he said that he would be in touch so he could pass on the case details to you.” Laurel told him politely.

 

The Sherriff nodded gratefully, “Thanks, It should have been me that did it, but it helps when you already knew his number, and when we’re understaffed.”

 

“He’s my dad,” Laurel shrugged, “It was no issue, he was glad for the update. I’m sorry about what happened here. It sounds awful”

 

“I don’t remember much of it, to be honest, but thank you.”

 

“What’s the plan for finding Jackson now?” Thea questioned her voice thick with tension and barely hidden anxiety.

 

“When the others get here we’ll start a search. If he’s as badly hurt as the blood at the crime scene would indicate, he won’t have gotten too far.”

 

“I’d like to help,” Diggle offered, “I was in the army, back in my day, I know a bit about tracking and searching.”

 

“We’ll all help,” Oliver nodded, “I just want Jackson back.”

 

The Sherriff nodded and pulled out a large map of the Beacon Hills and a marker. He put a red dot on a location.

 

“That’s where the Whittemores, the green area on the map is the reserve. Although I didn’t get any leads, I’m still going to mark down the locations of Jackson’s known friends.   Danny Mahealani lives here,” The Sherriff put another dot on the map, not far from the first, and wrote DM right next to the dot. The Sherriff walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a file, glancing through it, before he put it back away and walked back to the map, obviously having checked some fact.

 

“His girlfriend,” he continued, “lives here, although apparently she went over to her friend’s house not long ago. This friend lives here,” John put another two dots down, marking them LM and ER. Jackson is apparently friends with my son and his best friend, so we’ll mark those places as well. When my deputies get here we’ll split into three groups. Two groups will scour the reserve, while I will take my group on a drive around town to check to see if he hasn’t tried to get to a friend’s house. Once we’ve finished looking in town we’ll join the group out in the reserve.”

 

“What’s the white area, on the other side of the green?” Felicity asked, observing the map curiously.”

 

“Private property. All the land out there belongs to Derek Hale. If we haven’t found Jackson by dawn I’m going to have to talk to him about letting us search on his property. Hopefully he’ll be as understanding as his mother, she often used to help out when people got lost out in the woods, she was damn good at finding people too…Derek used to be too, when he was a kid,” A fond smile crossed the face of the Sherriff, before it vanished. Roy suspected the comment hadn’t been meant for the rest of them, but he could guess that it had triggered some fond memory for the Sherriff.

 

It was at that moment that the first of the deputies arrives, a sturdy looking man that looked to be between Roy and Oliver in age. His hair was tousled, and Roy was pretty sure he’d only just gotten out of bed

 

“What’s going on Sherriff?”

 

Roy tuned out, focusing on Thea as the Sherriff retold the story to the deputy, and the other surviving deputy, who walked in about half way through the story. Felicity played the recording on her phone for them, and Roy couldn’t help but think that it didn’t get any easier to hear every time he heard it. One of the deputies logged on to a computer, looking up the original missing person’s reports from when the twins were abducted, while The Sherriff and the other deputy began getting out flashlights, first aid equipment, rescue gear, and everything they would need to search the preserve

 

“I can’t find it,” the deputy working on the computer reported, “I mean, I’ve found a couple of news articles about the kidnapping back from when it happened, but no official case files or whatever. I even typed in the FBI case number you guys gave me, and I’m not getting anything. It’s like the case never existed.”

 

“I work in IT, could I help?” Felicity offered. The deputy shot a sideways look at the Sherriff, who hesitated for a moment, before nodding. The deputy got out of the way, and Felicity sat in front of the computer, tapping quickly on the keys, and on the screen of her faithful tablet, positioned beside the computer

 

“The system’s been hacked…there’s a virus that is preventing anyone from accessing anything relating to the kidnapping from your internet connection. I’d say from the coding of their virus it’s been here since the kidnapping happened.”

 

“What does that mean?’ one of the deputies asked.

 

“It means that, and I’m speculating here, the Whittemores may have had someone come in and plant the virus in your system. Even if you had upgraded all of your equipment in the last fifteen years it would still be there. They really didn’t want you guys making the connection between the twins and Jackson.

 

“But we could access some articles about it, how does that work?” The sheriff asked from where he stood, shoving supplies into a back pack.  
  
“None of the articles that you can access have pictures though. It would be impossible for someone, only going from the information provided in these articles, to make the connection between the twins and Jackson Whittemore.”

 

The Sherriff signed and nodded in acceptance, “All right, we’d better go. How do you want to split up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, beofre anyone says anything, I know this probably isn't corret police procedure, but I'm hoping that people will be able to overlook that. Derperate times call for Depesperate measures and all that, yeah?


	8. Chapter 8

In the end the groups ended up being Roy, Thea and one deputy, Diggle, Laurel, and the other Deputy, and Oliver, Felicity with the Sherriff. They set out in the police cruisers, the first two heading for the Whittemore’s house in order to start from there, while the Sherriff drove around Beacon Hills, with Felicity and Oliver scanning the surroundings, looking for anything unusual.

 

They drove past each of Jackson’s friends’ houses, and the streets surrounding the hospital, just in case Jackson had tried to walk there and had collapsed from blood loss along the way, but they didn’t see anything suspicious.

 

In fact, Oliver was amazed at how quiet everything was. He knew that Beacon Hills was a small town, especially compared to Starling City, but he hadn’t been prepared for the significance of the difference. It made him consider what sort of life Jackson…Robbie would have had so far. He would have lived the normal life that, at times, Oliver knew that he, Tommy and Thea had all craved. Yes, his parents had been wealthier than most, but he’d gone to a public school, and had lots of friends. He hadn’t been dragged to functions that bored him and he didn’t have paparazzi following his every move.

 

“I’m just going to drive by my house to see if he’s there with my delinquent teenager, and then we’ll meet up with the others,” The Sherriff told them from where he sat in the driver’s seat. Oliver understood, the fact that the Sherriff’s son hadn’t answered his father’s calls was a little strange, and the fact that Jackson was the same age as the Sherriff’s son was bound to have the Sherriff thinking about what he would do if his own son went missing.

 

Jackson’s situation was getting increasingly more urgent as time progressed, but Oliver couldn’t blame the Sherriff for wanting to check that his son was safe and sound in bed first before they headed out into the woods.

 

Eventually the Sherriff pulled into the curb outside a darkened house with a light blue Jeep, which had obviously seen better days, parked in the driveway.

 

“Roscoe is here, that’s a good sign,” The Sherriff murmured to himself as he got out of the car. Oliver got out of the car as well, needing to stretch his legs, wincing as an old injury made his knee twinge in pain. Felicity followed his lead.    

 

“Roscoe?” she asked quietly, mindful of the suburban area, and the fact that it was now getting very late.

 

“The Jeep, I’ll go check that he’s inside and that Jackson isn’t here.” The Sherriff said, heading towards the house. Oliver turned his back on the man, and looked around curiously as he waited, although he stayed close to the car, not wanting to intrude on the Sherriff’s privacy.

 

Through the windows Oliver could see that the Sheriff was switching on lights, illuminating his way as he looked for his son. It was only when one of the lights was turned on, the light shining through a front window of the house and combining with the moonlight, that Oliver saw it…as smear of red up high on the light blue doorframe of the Jeep. At first glance it could have been rust, but Oliver knew blood when he saw it.

 

“Felicity, get a torch,” Oliver ordered softly, forcing a calm he didn’t feel into his voice. Felicity frowned and retrieved the torch the Sherriff had loaned her.

 

“What is it?” she queried, passing Oliver the torch. Oliver turned it on and added the torch’s beam of light to the light already provided by the light coming through the window, with vanished almost as soon as he’d turned the torch on, and the moon.

 

“Blood,” Oliver replied. They stood in silence for a few moments, neither one of them wanting to trespass onto the Sherriff’s property, but both of them knowing that something wasn’t right about this. Oliver was expecting the stormy look on the Sherriff’s face as he emerged from the house, all the lights turned off once again.

 

“He’s not at home,” he told Oliver and Felicity, “what’s wrong…oh God.” The Sherriff’s face fell from one of Anger, to pure fear, when he followed the torch’s light to the Jeep, and the smear of blood on the doorframe.

 

Oliver watched, his heart clenching in sympathy as the Sherriff ran to the Jeep, looking at the blood on the vehicle, before he looked down.

 

“Come a bit closer with the light, please?” he asked.

 

At the invitation, Oliver and Felicity moved quickly, stepping forward in order to give any assistance they could. Oliver immediately spotted the very small pool of blood on the driveway, beside the jeep.

 

Felicity crouched, shining her torch under the jeep, checking to see if anything was there, using the torch app on her phone to see by.

 

“There’s a phone under here,” she told them, “Have you got gloves or something?”

 

“Give me a sec,” The Sherriff nodded, hurrying back to his cruiser and retrieving some evidence bags and some gloves, before bringing them back. Felicity donned a pair of Gloved, before reaching under the Jeep to pull out a phone, the screen cracked and darkened, and a set of keys.

 

“That’s Stiles’ phone,” the Sherriff observed faintly, “and his keys.”

 

“Looks like they were dropped and forgotten,” Oliver commented, scanning around and looking for more evidence, “are they drag marks in the lawn?”

 

“Yes, they weren’t there when I left this morning,” The Sherriff nodded shakily, reaching for the radio on his shoulder.

 

“Hawkins, Motlop, are you there?”

 

“Sure are Sherriff, what’s going on, you find him?” One of the deputies replied.

 

“No, be on the lookout for Stiles too. He’s not at home, but the Jeep is here, as is his phone and his keys. I’ve got a set of drag marks in my front lawn going from the driveway beside the Jeep, to the curb, and there is blood on the doorframe of the Jeep, and on the driveway. I’m going to get things secured here and then I’ll meet you out there.”

 

“Will do, Sherriff.”

 

Oliver watched as the Sherriff took a steadying breath and began to professionally do his job, carefully swabbing a blood sample from each pool of blood, as well as photographing the drag marks, and the damage done to his son’s phone. It was obvious how worried the Sherriff was about his son, but Oliver had to admit that he was holding himself together very well.

 

“Is there anyone else your son might be with?” Oliver asked, “Your wife maybe?” he added, catching sight of the wedding ring on the man’s hand.

 

The Sherriff hesitated before shaking his head, “These days he always takes the Jeep when he goes to visit Claudia. It’s too far for him to walk, especially at this time of day, although he has done it before. My wife is dead, she passed away seven years ago, when Stiles was nine.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver apologized guiltily, regretting putting his foot in it like that. It was obvious form the way the Sherriff spoke that although seven years had passed; losing his wife was still a sensitive subject.

 

“You didn’t know,” the Sherriff replied, getting his phone out again and calling a number, although obviously it went straight to message bank,

  
“Hey Scott, it’s Sherriff Stilinski again. Listen, if you know where either Jackson or Stiles I, it’s important. They’re both missing, and I’m going out looking, ok? You’re not in trouble, and I don’t even know if they’re together but…but I just need to know where they are. Call me back when you get this.”

 

Unseen by the Sherriff, distracted by his phone call, Oliver saw Felicity collect her own samples of blood, sealing them in a zip lock bag and tucking them in her pocket.

 

“Do we think this is related to the Whittemores?” she asked once the Sherriff had finished his call, and another call to the crime scene team, asking for two crime scene techs to come to his home to check out the crime scene. He shrugged in response.

  
“I don’t know”, he admitted, “This is a small town, normally things are pretty quiet around here…and even now we don’t have multiple strange things happening on the same night very often.”

 

“Other than the issues between Jackson and Stiles would the Whittemores have any reason to go after your son?” Oliver asked. The sheriff ran his fingers through his hair, anxiety playing on his face.

 

“No…and David Whittemore got rid of the restraining order, I thought everything was forgiven. Stiles didn’t have anything to do with them. I don’t know why they would have gone after him. It doesn’t make sense.”

 

Oliver cringed, knowing exactly how the Sherriff was feeling. Jackson, at least, had fled of his own free will, while all the signs indicated that the Sherriff’s son had been abducted, and had probably been knocked out, if the blood and the drag marks were anything to go by.

 

The three fell into an uncomfortable silence. Oliver was itching to go out into the woods and start searching for Robbie, but he knew that legally the Sherriff couldn’t leave the crime scene they had discovered until the crime scene guys had come and have a look, although the Sherriff had already done the preliminary work.

 

Oliver and Felicity ignored the tears shining in the Sherriff’s eyes as he walked away from them and sat on the front steps of his home, his hands together, as if he was praying. Oliver thought he heard him mumble his wife’s name, but he politely ignored it, guessing that the Sherriff was praying to his wife, pleading with her to protect their son from her place in heaven.

 

Eventually the Sherriff finished praying, and had compiled his thoughts, because he rose to his feet, rejoining Oliver and Felicity beside the Jeep. A thoughtful frown was spread across his features, and Oliver caught the Sherriff staring at him, as if he was analyzing him. Oliver said nothing, though, and eventually it was the Sherriff spoke.

 

“Crap…when did you say that your nephews were born?”

 

“January 7, they’re sixteen.” Oliver replied.

 

“And they were kidnapped thirteen months later?”

 

Oliver nodded, and the Sherriff rubbed his hand over his face thoughtfully as he began murmuring quietly to himself.

 

“It’s a big time difference…but then, it gave the Whittemores time to get established…and it matches what the docs said about when it started…plausible I guess…and it would explain why they’d want to get him.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asked.

 

The Sherriff blinked, “Just a theory I’m working on. Could you describe your nephews, Mr. Queen, physically, the last time you saw them, please. ”

 

“Sure,” Oliver nodded, “Robbie was a spitting image for his dad at the same age, but Alex was smaller, he looked a bit like myself and Thea when he was a newborn, but as he grew a bit he became more like Thea than anyone else. Robbie had dark blonde hair and blue eyes, while Alex had brown hair and brown eyes, but his skin tone was lighter than Robbie’s.”

 

“Any key identifying features…birthmarks…scars, healed injuries that would show on an x ray?”

 

“No, nothing like that, why do you ask?”

 

In reply Sherriff Stilinski pulled out his phone and began tapping at the screen quickly, “I know this is an old photo, but it helps, trust me. Whenever Stiles is causing trouble, involved in everything that goes wrong in this town, I look at this photo and remember what he used to be like, how much he’s had to go through just to show the level of spirit he shows. There was a time when he wouldn’t say anything at all, he barely ever used to smile…he was scared of almost everything.”

 

Curious, Oliver stepped forward, Felicity at his side, as they watched the Sherriff flick through his phone until he found the photo he wanted to view.

 

“Stiles is adopted,” he explained to them, “My wife and I first brought him into our home when he was about 16 or 17 months old. We don’t know when his actual birthday is, but we celebrate on December 1. All we know is that, in late May, the same year that your nephews were abducted, two individuals who remain unidentified, although the evidence hinted they were both male, judging from shoe size, abandoned him in the reserve. He’d been abused, and the evidence indicated he was out there, alone, for two days until thankfully, he was found by the Hales, who raised the alarm. When he was brought to hospital he was very sick, malnourished and dehydrated. He had injuries that had become infected, and the worst case of diaper rash I’d ever seen, but it was the emotional trauma of what he’d been through that really affected him. Even after he was released from hospital he didn’t say anything for months.”

 

The Sherriff turned his phone around so Oliver and Felicity could see it and Oliver felt his stomach turn to ice. On the screen of the phone was a photo of a toddler standing in a garden, a small toy wolf clutched in one little hand, his brown hair sticking up messily as he looked at whoever was taking the photo, a serious expression on his little face.

 

Beside him, Felicity immediately got out her phone and flicked through her own photos until she found the one she was looking for. The icy feeling in Oliver’s gut only became worse when Felicity put her phone next to the Sherriff’s, holding it so they could all see both photos at once.  
  
“Oh my God,” Sherriff Stilinski gasped. Oliver swallowed thickly, and Felicity looked from Oliver, to the Sherriff, and back again.

 

On Felicity’s phone screen was the last photo she’d ever taken of Alex, a couple of days before he and Robbie had been abducted. Even though there was at least a five month difference between her photo, and the Sherriff’s photo being taken, it was obvious to all three of them that the little boy, grinning cheekily up at them from Felicity’s phone, and the toddler in the garden being displayed on the Sherriff’s phone, were exactly the same person. Naturally, the Sherriff’s photo showed a slightly older child, but the eyes were the same, and the face was the same, and Oliver felt a smile growing on his own face as the realization began to sink in.

 

Not only had they found Robbie, but they’d found Alex as well.

 

Now all he and his allies had to do was actually find them.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles startled awake at the feeling of something hard connecting with his cheek, pain flaring from the site of the impact as he snapped his eyes open, his head jerking roughly to the side. He squinted his eyes, his vision slowly coming back as he adjusted to the brightness of the light overhead.

 

Once his vision had adjusted and the stinging in his cheek had subsided, Stiles turned his head towards his attackers. He wasn’t sure who he was expecting, but Jackson’s parents were very far down the list.

 

“Ah, finally awake again,” David Whittemore smirked, leaning forward into Stiles’ personal space. Stiles immediately tried to move away, memories of that night in the Argent’s basement still very fresh in his mind. His effort, however, was thwarted by the fact that his hands were tied together behind his back to a chair, with his ankles tied to the chair legs. A look at his surroundings revealed an office, probably Mr. Whittemore’s office in Beacon Hills, although Stiles was only guessing, he’d never actually been in Jacksons’ dads office.

 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked curiously, more than a little confused. Why on earth would Jackson’s parents kidnap him and tie him up? Other than his attempt at kidnapping Jackson (admittedly, not one of his best plans) he’d done nothing to them. He was pretty sure that they weren’t hunters too, so that ruled out the possibility of a repeat of the ‘Gerard Argent situation that shall not be mentioned…ever.’      

 

“Oh, Just a little personal vendetta,” Louise Whittemore shrugged, although Stiles didn’t like the smirk on the woman’s face. It made him think of Kate Argent at her most psychotic.

 

“What are you talking about; I haven’t done anything to you guys?” Stiles argued. A hard punch sent his head snapping to the side, and Stiles winced as he felt his lip, only just healed again after Gerard’s interrogation/beating, split open, blood tricking from the injury.

 

“Shut up,” David Whittemore ordered, before a sadistic smile crossed his face, “although you are such a typical teenager, aren’t you? Thinking that everything revolves around you.”

 

“Well, you’re the one who decided to tie me to a chair,” Stiles pointed out sarcastically, struggling against his bonds, “You’re the one who seems to think I’m involved in this vendetta thing of yours.”

 

David Whittemore straightened to his full height, leering down at Stiles, before he walked away from him, towards his desk. Stiles felt his gut churn uncomfortably as he saw the array of tools spread out on the large, wooden desk. An electrical extension lead, a belt, a large, sharp pair of scissors, a golf club and a large roll of electrical tape were positioned on the desk, and Stiles had a nasty gut feeling what they were going to be used for. Perhaps more alarming, however, was the fact that Stiles could see a gun sticking out of the back of David Whittemore’s pants.

 

A sick feeling began to build in Stiles’ gut as he remembered what Isaac had said about Jackson being shot, fairly certain he was looking at the man responsible. What the hell had driven David Whittemore to shoot his own son, and why on earth was Stiles, of all people, being dragged into it?

 

Stiles swallowed nervously as David Whittemore studied the array of objects lined up on his desk, his fingers hovering over them as the man obviously considered what he was going to use first. Eventually David’s fingers closed around the belt, looking over his shoulder at Stiles and giving him a menacing stare. Stiles tugged uselessly against his restraints, and was surprised when Louise Whittemore rose to her feet and roughly cut the tape binding his hands and feet. Stiles’ shock, however, evaporated quickly when she dragged him to his feet and pushed him against the wall with a surprising amount of strength, lifting his arms above his head and tying them tightly to a rope that Stiles’ hadn’t noticed earlier. Stiles looked up, ignoring the way moving his head swim slightly, and noticed the other end of the rope he was being tied to was securely anchored to an exposed joist.

 

Even without the electrical wires it was still a very vivid reminder of how Erica and Boyd had been tied up in the Argent’s basement, and Stiles shuddered as the memories that he’d been trying to repress from that night came flooding back. He was so absorbed in his memories that he wasn’t aware of David’s approach, up until the metal clasp of the belt slapped into his side, causing him to startle violently, his breath catching in his throat.

 

“Gag him, we don’t want him screaming and someone hearing.” David ordered, and Louise hurried to do his bidding, fetching the electrical tape and using it to cover Stiles’ mouth. She also brought the scissors, and used them to roughly cut away Stiles’ thin t-shirt, leaving his pale chest and back exposed, not seeming to care when she accidently cut Stiles’ skin with the sharp scissors. The minute Louise moved away, David stepped up into Stiles’ personal space.

 

“You know…I was so disappointed in those goons I hired to keep you out of the way until I’d settled in Beacon Hills and built up my reputation. I mean, the moment that I give them the order that they dispose of you, the abandon you in the woods. I had meant that they, I don’t know, throw you off a pier or something at the other end of the country, or at least in another state…they didn’t even take you out of the county, but they were punished for their mistakes…nice shallow graves out in the desert where the coyotes could pick them of bit by bit until there was nothing left but chewed bones and coyote shit. They were lucky that I killed them first; my initial plan was to paralyze them somehow and leave them out there until they died of dehydration, but I didn’t want someone finding them, and then risking them blabbing their mouths about my plan. Still, at least killing them meant that I didn’t have to pay them, so there was that upside. Paying them to keep you with them would have been a costly exercise, although they told me that once they’d beaten you up numerous times you learned to keep that little mouth of yours shut. I didn’t care about what they did to you, as long as they held off on killing you until I knew that my rouse with your brother was successful.   I only needed one of you to enact my revenge, after all, and my plans with your brother had worked out so well, better than I even hoped. The people in this town were so willing to believe the sob story that we fed them…it was pathetic.”

 

As he spoke David struck Stiles with the belt repeatedly in the back, sides and stomach, the pain lancing through Stiles’ body as he tried to fight the tears that were rolling down his cheeks, not from the pain, but from David Whittemore’s words.

 

For all of his life Stiles had wondered about the events that had lead to him being abandoned in the woods as a baby. When he’d been younger he’d tried to remember something…anything from before he was found, but he’d never gotten very far. The most he’d ever gotten was a woman’s voice, gunshots, and being frightened. Stiles hadn’t ever known if they were real, or if he’d just imagined the memories up after reading Harry Potter or something and putting his own twist on it, and as he’d gotten older the memories had faded even more. It sounded like; however, David Whittemore knew far more about Stiles’ past than anyone else Stiles had met.

 

“I suppose I should be grateful I chose to keep your brother, and not you.   I thought that the bigger, stronger one of the two of you would be a better prize, and when I started hearing about how intelligent you were, even in preschool, I began to think that it was a wise move on my behalf. It wouldn’t have been right if you had figured everything out and raised the alarm before I was ready. As it was Jackson never had the intellect required for that kind of thinking, and he was far too busy focusing on how much he hated everyone,” David Whittemore laughed, “The little idiot didn’t even realize he was adopted until I left the paperwork out on the kitchen table, right where he usually sat. I mean, your grandfather was one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever known, despite his being a ruthless bastard who only ever cared for himself, I had thought that maybe his only grandchildren would inherit his intelligence. I was only half right, it seems.”

 

Stiles had long ago stopped listening to David Whittemore’s rambling. His brother…he and Jackson were brothers?   What the hell? That didn’t even make sense. They looked nothing alike; they had absolutely nothing in common except for having a thing for Lydia and the fact they’d both been adopted at a young age. Jackson was strong, muscular, popular, a jerk, blonde and blue eyed. Stiles, in contrast, was skinny, with little to no muscle, socially inept, hyperactive, brunette and amber eyed. Stiles knew that yes, he was quite often a jerk to those around him as well, he wasn’t denying that fact, but he was nowhere as bad as Jackson was.

 

Jackson…the same kid who had made Scott and Stiles’ lives hell since the first grade, relishing in making them feel bad. Jackson, who had stolen Scott’s inhaler and dunked Stiles’ head in the toilet on the very first day of junior high, who had pushed Stiles into more lockers than he could ever keep track off.

 

In fact, Stiles could only recall one time, ever, when Jackson had ever behaved towards him with any hint of genuine kindness or empathy, and that had been just after Stiles’ mother had died. Jackson seemed to respect the fact that Stiles’ mother was dead, and he’d never once taunted Stiles about it. He’d even gone so far as to have a go at some other kids who thought it would be funny to tease Stiles about how his mother had literally gone insane a few weeks after Stiles’ mother had died, leaving the kids in question with black eyes and bleeding noses, threatening Stiles that if he ever told anyone about what happened he would get exactly the same treatment.

 

It was also true that Jackson had never teased Stiles about being adopted, even before he’d learned that he himself was adopted. Although none of Stiles’ classmates were old enough to remember the news about the baby boy that had been found close to death in the woods and who had been later adopted by deputy Stilinski and his wife, their parents and older siblings remembered. It had been a big deal at the time, and Stiles had grown up with strangers coming up to him, cooing at how adorable he was, and telling his parents how good it was that they had taken him in, how good a job they were doing, and expressing their heartfelt hopes that the bastard responsible for hurting such a sweet boy would get caught. Co-incidentally, almost all of Stiles’ classmates had known quite a bit about his past before they’d actually met him, thanks to the stories they were told by their parents and older siblings, and while some of his classmates had made snide comments about it over the years, Jackson hadn’t been one of them.  

 

Things between Stiles and Jackson hadn’t improved much since Jackson had become a werewolf. Stiles knew full well the type of issues Scott had gone through in his first few weeks as a werewolf, and knew that Jackson would be having just as much trouble, if not more. Knowing Jackson’s notorious anger issues, Stiles had tried to steer clear of Derek’s pack as much as possible.

 

Judging from what David Whittemore was saying, and his tone of voice when he was talking about Jackson, Stiles wasn’t actually overly surprised that Jackson had issues. It was obvious to Stiles that David didn’t give a damn about the kid he’d brought up, and Louise didn’t seem to be any better. It was no wonder that Jackson didn’t tell his parents that he loved them. There was absolutely no love in that whole household, except for between David and Louise.  

 

It was enough to make Stiles feel a bit guilty for how he’d treated Jackson over the years, but he pushed those emotions aside as he refocused on the fact that, apparently he and Jackson were brothers.

 

Focusing on trying to process the news, however, was made much more difficult by the fact that David Whittemore hadn’t stopped his attack on Stiles’ back, chest, and arms. He’d switched from using the belt, to beating Stiles with the electrical cord, and then with the golf club. Blood was running freely down Stiles’ back, and Stiles had both heard and felt the distinctive crack when the golf club had connected with his already bruised side, as his ribs, already cracked and bruised from his run in with Gerard Argent, broke completely. Stiles took shallow breaths, trying to avoid jostling his chest too much. He knew that if he got hit too many places in one of the spots where his ribs had already broken, then it was highly possibly one of the bone fragments might puncture his lung…and that would be the end of him.

 

Stiles wondered what David and his wife would do with his body once he was dead…leave him in the same woods he was left in all those years ago? Maybe they’d take him away from Beacon hills, throw his body into the ocean, leave it in a car and set the whole thing alight, or something like that, so it would be longer before his remains were found and identified, giving more time for any evidence to be compromised, and allowing them more time to run and get away.

 

In reality Stiles didn’t really care what they did, as long as it wasn’t his dad that found him. Stiles’ dad had been through enough in the last few years because of Stiles without adding finding the beaten body of his adopted son to the list. A shudder ran down Stiles’ back, making his ribs scream in pain, and the wounds on his back begin bleeding again as the movement jostles his injuries, as he thought about how his father would cope with his death. Stiles had seen first had the downward spiral his father had started on after Stiles mother died, but he’d managed to pull himself together, for the most part, for Stiles’ sake, not that Stiles had really given him much choice in the matter.

 

Now though, there wouldn’t be anyone to do the same. His dad would be alone in the world, and there wouldn’t be anyone to hold him back and save him from his own demons not to mention all of the others that would be affected if he died. He thought of Scott, who would admittedly struggle at first without Stiles, but would probably be ok in the long run between Isaac, Allison, and Derek and his pack. Lydia had Jackson; Derek had his pack, and would probably be grateful that Stiles was dead, as would Isaac and Boyd. Erica, maybe, might be a little upset, but she’d get over it with Boyd and her own werewolf powers to distract her. Melissa McCall would probably be upset, but again, Stiles knew that he annoyed her quite a bit over the years, she’d probably be glad that Scott was now no longer being influenced by Stiles’ infamous bad behavior.

 

Reflecting on his behavior in the past, and the damage it had inflicted on his relationship with his dad, who was probably the only one who would genuinely miss Stiles if Stiles didn’t make it out of this, and even then Stiles wondered if his father would feel a sense of relief, knowing that Stiles couldn’t do anything that would once again endanger his position of Sherriff…that he would have to live with ‘a hyperactive little bastard that kept ruining his life’.   At least if he was killed by the Whittemores Stiles couldn’t hurt his father any more.          

 

It was actually a very depressing thought, and Stiles’ breathing hitched painfully as his eyes well with unshed tears as he realized how inconsequential his death would be. Not for the first time he wished his mother was still alive, there to smooth things out between Stiles and his dad with a smile, and a few softly spoken words of trust and love, just like how she used to before she got sick.

 

A particularly hard swing of the golf club to his shoulder made Stiles gasp, the blow a painful reminder of another time when that same shoulder had been left battered and bruised. Those bruises had been caused by Stiles falling onto the concrete rooftop of Beacon Hills memorial hospital the night his mother had attacked him, diving at him and shoving him to the ground, striking and scratching at his face and chest, clawing at him as Stiles’ dad had tried to pull her away from him as she screamed that Stiles was killing her. Even though he’d been only eight at the time, Stiles had known logically, that she was only saying things like that because she was sick…that she didn’t recognize him as her son anymore, but it had still hurt like hell.

 

None of the psychologists his dad had tried to get him to open up to had really been able to do anything to ease the way Stiles blamed himself for everything that had happened to his mother and the pain he felt at how the once close bond between them had been shattered apart.

 

There was a part of Stiles that had been grateful when Claudia had finally died. It meant that she wasn’t suffering anymore, that she wouldn’t be scared anymore. He remembered the night she had died, sneaking into her hospital room and sitting by her bed, holding her hand. She’d been awake, but her body was far too weak for her to do anything more than look wearily at him. Stiles had even been fairly sure that she hadn’t been frightened of him that night, although he wouldn’t go as far to say that his mother recognized him. The dementia had robbed her of all memories of the baby boy, abandoned in the woods, that she and her husband had taken into their home and promised to love and protect.

 

Stiles blinked, tears running down his cheeks freely, as he remembered how his mother had fallen asleep that night, a small smile on her face, as if shed known her suffering was over. Her breathing had become slower and slower, until eventually it stopped all together, and the monitors had all started screaming.

 

The rest of Stiles’ memories from that night were hazy, but he did clearly remember how his father had cried, clinging to Melissa as he was told that Claudia was gone, how he’d wrapped his arms around Stiles tightly and held him, rocking gently as he whispered comforting words into Stiles’ ear, how Stiles had gone into a panic attack when a doctor had tried to get his dad to leave Stiles’ side in order to fill out some paperwork.

 

It was only when Stiles’ legs collapsed beneath his weight and he hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him did Stiles realize that David Whittemore had stopped, and the rope that had been holding Stiles upright, the rope his arms had been tied to had been untied. David and Louise Whittemore were looking down at him scornfully, and Stiles realized that he must have passed out.

 

“There’s no sense in beating you someone when they’re not awake to be aware of it,” David observed, a sadistic pout on his face, “although I do regret not filming out little session…no doubt your granddaddy would love to see his youngest grandchild beaten and tortured. I’ve heard that he likes that kind of thing…he tried to kill an entire neighborhood once after all. He tried to bring down their homes, their buildings, the places they worked, all of it, down on their heads. Do you know how many people he killed that day…how much blood is on his hands? 503 people, Mr Stilinski, including his own son? It was no surprise when Jackson became a bully at an early age…it’s in his blood after all…yours as well, I’d wager. For the moment though we’ll pause in proceedings, there are some things I need to attend to, you are not my only priority. ”

 

Blearily, Stiles thought of Jackson, and of the message he’d received from Isaac as he was roughly grabbed, his already strained and sore shoulders protesting loudly as David dragged Stiles back into the chair he’d originally been tied to using Stiles’ arms with a surprising amount of strength.

 

It didn’t take long for David and Louise to tie Stiles up securely in the chair, his legs tied to the chair legs, and his arms secured tightly with both rope and tape around the back of the chair. Louise Whittemore ripped the electrical tape from Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles’ eye watered in pain at the burning the tape’s removal caused.

 

“If you’re looking for Jackson, you’re never going to find him,” Stiles gritted out, “He’s in a place where he’ll be safe from you and your psychopathic ranting. You’re nuts, you know that, absolutely fu……”

 

Stiles’ words were cut off by the hard punch to the face that snapped his head to the side, sending shooting pain along his jaw and down his neck as the chair rocked dangerously, threatening to tip over.  


“Shut up,” David Whittemore hissed, his face mere inches from Stiles’ own, his eyes gleaming dangerously in a way that vividly reminded Stiles of Peter Hale the night of winter formal. For a moment Stiles briefly considered the possibility of David Whittemore being an Alpha werewolf, but he doubted it. Instead he spat out a mouthful of blood from his split lip, and the cut to his tongue caused by the punch. It joined the rest of the bloodstains on the carpet of the office floor, all of which had been created by Stiles and his injuries, many of which were still sluggishly bleeding. Stiles was no doctor, but he guessed that, although the injuries hurt a lot, and would probably get infected, he was in no real danger of bleeding out externally, as long as he got medical assistance fairly soon…which seemed unlikely.

 

“You better put some thought into what the last thing to come out of your little smart mouth is going to be, brat,” David continued, “because when we get back it’s going to be in order to kill you, and make sure the jobs done properly this time. I wonder what daddy dearest the Sherriff is going to say when he sees your body. We’ll even be nice and leave you exactly where we found you, I promise, right next to that shit box you call a car.   If it was me, I’d be grateful that the little hyperactive bastard was dead, but your daddy’s always been a weak kind of man…no wonder he and your mother got on so well.

 

Stiles lurched forward, his eyes blazing with anger.

 

“Don’t you dare mention my mom, you asshole. She’s twice the person you’ll ever be.”

 

“Be sure to pass that thought on to her when you see her next…which I imagine will be soon. Don’t you go anywhere,” David Whittemore laughed, stepping back from the chair where Stiles had been restrained, and turning his back on the captive teenager as Louse applied a fresh piece of tape over Stiles’ mouth, preventing him from making any noise in their absence. Stiles watched as they gathered their things and started to leave, when he caught sight of flashing blue and red lights in the distance, approaching the office quickly.

 

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk beneath the tape as David and Louise ducked out of sight, although Stiles guessed that, unless Jackson had talked to the police, or Scott had noticed that Stiles had failed to arrive at Derek’s house and raised the alarm, no-one would have realized that anything was wrong. His father wasn’t due to come off his shift for at least another three hours, and the fact that one of the cars was using their lights and travelling at speed, indicated it would be even later.

 

The car passed the office without even slowing down, and David and Louise visibly relaxed, shooting nervous looks at one another, before they both glared at Stiles, whose amusement was obviously showing, even with the tape covering his mouth. Angrily David seized a bottle of port from a shelf beside the door and threw it at Stiles, who ducked and flinched away as the bottle went high and broke on the paneled wall behind him, the alcohol remaining in the bottle, as well as the broken remains of the bottle falling on him, and on the carpet around him. One of the pieces of glass left a shallow cut on Stiles’ shoulder but otherwise he wasn’t injured.

 

Which was lucky, because only scant seconds later the office door slammed and Stiles was alone in the room. He waited a couple of seconds before he heard the Whittemores exit out the main door and leave the building. He let out a hitched sob as he let the implications of David Whittemore’s words sink in.

 

He couldn’t put his father through that. His dad didn’t have anyone else. He needed Stiles to take care of him. Stiles had to be there to make sure his dad wasn’t drinking too much, and that he wasn’t cheating on his diet, and he went to his regularly check up to make sure his cholesterol level wasn’t getting too high. If Stiles was killed and left for dead at the front of his home he wouldn’t be able to make sure his father looked after himself, and, in fact, Stiles was pretty sure that his father wouldn’t take good care of himself.

 

It was enough encouragement that Stiles began looking around the room for a way to escape. The weapons were gone, taken by the Whittemores, although Stiles was still tied to the chair, so he doubted they would have done him much good anyway.

 

He tried struggling out of his bonds, hoping that he could work a knot loose, or something like that, but all he did was make his arms sore, and irritate the rope burns around his wrists. Stiles huffed and tilted his head backwards, resting it against the back of the chair, wishing that his body would stop hurting and allow him to focus on escaping…on getting back to his dad.

 

Out of the corner of his eyes Stiles saw something glint, reflecting the moonlight that was shining through a crack in the curtain, and he turned his head towards it curiously, eyes narrowing as he realized it was a piece of broken glass, the edge sharp and jagged, lying on the carpet, one of the many pieces of glass that littered the floor after David Whittemore had thrown the bottle. Stiles felt a smirk cross his face as he remembered all of the times he and his dad had watched Air Force One together, as it was one of his dad’s favorite movies.

 

It would hurt, and Stiles was bound to end up more severely injured, but anything would be better than staying here and doing nothing, and waiting for David and Louise to come back and kill him, before they left his body on his front lawn for his father to find.


	10. Chapter 10

“Shouldn’t Stiles have gotten here by now?” Scott asked from where he stood beside Isaac, leaning against a still semi solid wall within the old Hale house.

 

Isaac shrugged, “I called him, and I could hear his keys rattling and him moving, so I guessed he was on his way. Maybe he stopped to get some food…he seemed to be in the mood to party when he heard that Jackson was hurt, but not seriously.”

 

From where she stood Erica snorted, glancing at the still unconscious Jackson spread out on the musty couch, his head resting in Lydia’s lap as she played with his hair.

 

“Try his phone, maybe he’s gotten distracted,” Erica offered, although Scott was pretty sure she was more worried than she was letting on. Scott didn’t know what had actually happened the night of the Lacrosse final, he’d been preoccupied with his own issues that night, but Scott was certain that there was more to the story than Stiles was telling.

 

Scott knew he wasn’t as smart as Lydia or Stiles, but he knew his best friend, and he was fairly certain that Stiles had been lying when he’d said that he’d been beaten up by some members of the other lacrosse team after the game, and Scott also suspected that, whatever had happened to Stiles, Erica and Boyd knew about had had been involved. He didn’t think that they were the ones who hurt Stiles, but ever since that night, even though he’d been avoiding everyone, including Stiles, these days, Scott had noticed that Erica and Boyd had been a little closer, a little warmer, towards Stiles than they ever had been before.

 

Pulling out his phone Scott hit his speed dial number two, although he had actually already tried calling Stiles a couple of times to find out what the delay was. If Stiles was too much later he’d miss out on the chance of seeing Jackson unconscious…Derek was pretty sure that Jackson would be waking up fairly soon, and Scott didn’t want Stiles to miss out. Even though they were all supposedly in the same pack now, and Jackson wasn’t bully Scott and Stiles anymore, nobody would label Stiles and Jackson as being friendly towards one another.

 

Letting out a groan of frustration as an automated voice informed him that Stiles’ phone was switched off, Scott walked across the room to peer out the window. He knew that they would have all heard Stiles’ approach. Even Lydia, with normal hearing, would have been able to hear the Jeep as it rumbled it’s way up the track towards the Hale house.

 

“He’s not answering, his phone’s turned off,” he told the rest of the group, realizing only after he spoke that almost everyone in the room would already be aware of the fact, thanks to their hearing. Lydia was the only exception to that, and she was too busy focusing on Jackson to be interested in what he was saying anyway.

 

Scott looked over his shoulder towards the other werewolves in the room. Erica was frowning, shooting an anxious look at Boyd, although Isaac didn’t seem to share his packmate’s obvious concern. Derek rubbed a weary hand over his face.

 

“We’ll give him another fifteen minutes. If he hasn’t gotten here by now we’ll go looking. His phone battery has probably died on him or something.”

 

“Yeah, he’s probably just been playing too much candy crush or something,” Isaac nodded reassuringly in agreement with the Alpha, “the Jeep has probably broken down again and he’s trying to fix it”. Scott sighed and nodded, stepping to move away from the window when his phone began ringing in his hand. Scott jumped violently, and he would have dropped his phone in surprise if it wasn’t for his werewolf reflexes. As it was he managed to keep a grip on his phone with only a small fumble, before he hit the answer button, without even looking at the caller Id, and lifting it to his ear.

 

“Stiles, were are you?” Scott anxiously asked.

 

“Scott? It’s Sherriff Stilinski.”

 

“Oh,” Scott frowned, slumping a little in disappointment. He’d ignored his last call from the Sherriff, but he’d been in too much of a rush to answer his phone to look at caller ID and realize it was Stiles’ dad that was calling, and not Stiles himself.

 

“What can I do for you, Sherriff?” Scott offered casually, shooting a nervous, sideways look at Derek.

 

“I’m guessing from the way you answered your phone that Stiles isn’t with you, but he was supposed to be. When was the last time you saw him?”

 

Scott replied honestly, confusion seeping into his voice, “Before my afternoon shift at Deaton’s today, why? What’s going on?”

 

“Stiles is missing, possibly abducted or kidnapped. His Jeep is still at home, and we found his phone on the driveway beneath it.”

 

As the werewolves around Scott heard the news they stood a little straighter, worried glances being exchanged. Even Derek looked concerned.

 

“What?” Scott choked out, “But…why would anyone take Stiles? He hasn’t done anything?”

 

“We’ve got a potential lead as to why, I just wanted to check and make sure he wasn’t with you or something. Do you know if anyone’s seen or heard from him since you’ve seen him?”

 

“Isaac Lahey spoke to him, maybe just over an hour ago,” Scott offered, “He called me at about the same time.”

 

“You don’t happen to know where Jackson Whittemore is, do you Scott?”

 

“Er, no,” Scott lied, although he knew it didn’t sound very convincing. Behind him Erica face palmed at how bad he was at lying, and Peter rolled his eyes.

 

“Right…well, I’ve got a lot of people out looking for him, and for Stiles. We know Jackson’s pretty badly hurt, and he needs medical attention Scott. If you know anything I would really like to know about it.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Scott replied evasively, “and for Stiles.”

 

“Let me know immediately if you see either of them ok…and if you see Jackson’s parents as well. Actually, if you see them, I want you to run as far away from them as possible. Then call me, ok. I don’t think they’ll go after you, but I don’t want you in trouble too.”

 

“What’s going on? Are Jackson’s parents the ones who took Stiles?”

 

“Maybe…listen, Scott, I’ve gotta go and keep searching. Can you do what I asked you to, please?”

 

“Sure,”

 

“Thanks, Scott, It’ll be fine, I’m sure. Stiles will be fine…Jackson too. I’ll talk to you soon, ok?”

 

“Yeah, ok. Bye,” Scott fare-welled.

 

“Bye Scott,’ The Sherriff hung up, and Scott lowered his phone and looked fearfully at the pack.

 

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked from where she sat, looking from Scott, to the other assembled werewolves, although she pointedly avoided looking anywhere near Peter.

 

“Stiles has been kidnapped or abducted, potentially by Jackson’s parents,” Scott informed her, putting his phone back into his pocket.

 

“But…why…Stiles doesn’t have anything to do with them?” Erica asked in confusion.

 

“Jacksons’ parents don’t know about werewolves, do they?” Isaac offered.

 

“If they did, and they felt strongly enough about it to kidnap Stiles they would have used wolfsbane bullets on Jackson,” Peter pointed out, “I’m quite sure they aren’t hunters.”

 

“But if that’s the case why kidnap Stiles?” Scott asked.

 

“Maybe they’re holding him ransom, against his dad,” Lydia suggested “they want Jackson back, and if they think the Sherriff has Jackson, maybe they think they can trade Stiles for Jackson.”

 

“But the Sherriff doesn’t have Jackson…we do,” Isaac stated nervously. As if he could sense people talking about him Jackson stirred where he lay on the couch, his eyes fluttering open sleepily. He furrowed his brow, taking in Lydia, looking down at him, her fingers still gently combing through his hair, before he turned his head and looked at the rest of the werewolves in the room.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us that?” Derek asked, “You stumbled up to the house, shot, and bleeding. You passed out form blood loss. I got Isaac to get the others up here, just in case there were hunters involved, although you said something about how it was your dad that did it.”

 

Jackson groaned and slowly began to sit up, and Scott noticed the way the other teenager winced when he put his weight on his left arm. Obviously Jackson’s wounds hadn’t healed completely yet, although they were certainly no longer bleeding.

 

“I don’t know. This group of people came over, and they were talking to my dad, and my dad sort of completely lost it, babbling on about how the Millers weren’t my actual parents, how I was actually from Starling City, how my parents…how my real parents were actually this couple sitting on our couch. He went on and on about his plans to get revenge against them. It was crazy.” Jackson explained, his voice strained, and more than a little shaken. Scott had never heard Jackson sound so vulnerable, not even the night that they defeated Gerard.

 

“Did anybody mention werewolves or anything else supernatural?” Peter asked. Jackson shook his head.

 

“No, the group of people…they started fighting. My dad…David Whittemore… shot the light and everything went dark, so I jumped out of the window and escaped over the back fence.”

 

“Did you recognize any of the people?” Lydia asked gently. Jackson swallowed, before he gave a shaky nod.

 

“I…I recognized my parents, and one of the other people. My…my mom, according to the Whittemores, is Thea Queen.”

 

Scott’s mouth fell open. He knew the story…everyone did, about the abduction of the twin children of Starling City’s most influential family. About how they’d been taken, and their parents left for dead from their home only a month after their first birthday, and they’d never been seen or heard from again. The Queen twin’s abduction was one of the reasons why Scott’s father had installed better locks on the doors and windows, and why, for a time, he’d kept a secondary gun in the hallway closet.

 

Scott remembered once asking his dad why the abduction had scared him so much, when Scott had been about six. His father had ruffled Scott’s hair fondly, sober for once.

 

“Because it was an abduction, and not a kidnapping.” He’d replied. Back then Scott hadn’t known the difference, so his father had continued.

 

“An abduction becomes a kidnapping if there is a ransom involved. It could be anything…money, the release of a prisoner, diplomatic immunity…if there was a proposed trade then it was kidnapping. The Harper-Queen case, however, had remained an abduction,” Raphael McCall had explained.

 

As Scott had gotten older, and he and Stiles had spent hours discussing the topic he’d begun to understand. In the Harper-Queen abduction case there had been no call for a ransom, no demands for money, despite the wealth of the twins’ family. Any sum of money could have been demanded, and would have been paid, and yet there had been no ransom demand. That was the scariest part, that no-one knew why the twins had been targeted, and that was a reminder that money is not the only motivator behind criminal’s actions. It was a poignant reminder that even if you had little money or influence you were still a potential target.

 

Scott and Stiles had both been very aware of the risk of kidnapping as children, although most of that awareness had stemmed from Stiles’ overactive imagination. It wasn’t the most stupid of Stiles’ theories though; they were both the sons of law enforcement officers after all. At this very moment Stiles was missing, possibly abducted, and if Lydia’s theory was correct it could be because of his father’s position and the assumption that Jackson was safe and sound with the police, or at least in hospital.

 

Scott glanced out the window, turning his back on Jackson and the rest of the pack, knowing that he should be out there looking for Stiles. He possibly knew Stiles better than anyone, with the possible exception of the Sherriff after all. He needed to be out there looking for his friend and whoever had taken him.

 

“But…weren’t there two boys abducted from the Queens?” Erica spoke up, her voice breaking through Scott’s thoughts “if you’re one of them…what happened to the other one?”

 

Jackson didn’t say anything, but Scott caught the pained look on Jackson’s face in the window’s reflection, and read between the lines. The other twin was either dead, or their location hadn’t been disclosed. For someone like Jackson, who’d spent his whole life trying to find out about his biological family, only to find out that the millers weren’t his family at all, and that his real family were the Queens, and that he had a twin…a brother who was almost certainly dead, it would be like a punch to the gut.

Scott couldn’t help but remember Stiles commenting on the unfairness of everything, that Jackson, already rich, would only inherit more money when he turned 18 and received the life insurance payout for the Millers. The Queens had far more money than either the Whittemores, or the Millers, and assuming that Jackson’s twin was actually dead, Jackson was the only heir. Scott cringed at the thought, not looking forward to delivering the news to Stiles…maybe Erica would be the one to do it. She’d probably enjoy dropping a bombshell like that on Stiles.

 

First, though, Stiles had to be found.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles staggered down the few steps into the grungy dark alleyway that ran behind the string of buildings that included David Whittemore’s office, the back door swinging shut behind him, and the lock engaging once again with a loud click. Looking back over his shoulder at the door, Stiles shuddered, and began walking as well as he could along the alleyway.

 

It hadn’t taken that long for Stiles to tip the chair he was tied to over, but maneuvering into a position where he could reach the large piece of broken glass had taken awhile. Once he’d gotten his hands of it, however, it had been relatively easy so begin slowly sawing through the ropes binding him with the sharp glass, although by the time he’d cut the rope enough for it to snap Stiles hands, wrists, and lower arms were all covered in bright red blood, and Stiles had begun to feel more than a little woozy from the amount of blood he’d lost. It had made the process of untying the knots securing his ankles to the chair legs much more difficult than it would be normally.

 

Luckily for Stiles there was a water cooler in the reception room of the office, and he’d downed a few glasses of water quickly before he’d made his escape, in an attempt to increase his fluid levels, once he’d bound his wounds the best he could with strips torn off what was left of his t-shirt.

 

Stiles hadn’t lingered at the office though, having no desire to still be there once David and Louise got back from wherever it was they’d gone. Now that he had escaped, however, Stiles wasn’t sure where to go now. Hospital seemed like the logical choice, but then, would David and Louise follow him there? They both seemed psychotic enough to do that, and Stiles didn’t want to put the doctors and nurses and other patients in danger by leading the couple there.

 

Staggering slightly, Stiles leaned against a solid brick building on the corner of the alleyway and one of the main streets of Beacon Hills, although it was deserted at this time of night, the streetscape illuminated by the streetlights. It was eerie, being the only person in sight, the only person around. It made Stiles feel lonely, and a shudder worked it’s way down his back, causing his injuries to throb angrily at the movement. Stiles gritted his teeth and continued onwards, having decided on his destination.

 

It was only a couple of blocks to the police station, where Stiles’ dad would be, and Stiles walked as quickly as he could, hyper aware of every noise, terrified that it was going to be David and Louise returning from wherever they had gone off to. Still, he made it to the outside of the police department building without encountering the couple, and, filled with hope, Stiles strode up the steps leading up to the main doors, confidence and determination helping to make his pain less noticeable. He reached out to take the door handle in his hand, and pulled, only for the glass door to rattle loudly and remain shut. Stiles blinked. The door was always supposed to be unlocked if the station was manned, and barring an emergency, the station was always manned. Even now, with the number of deputies critically low, it was still a 24 hour station.

 

Stiles looked at the door, noticing for the first time the sign that informed him that due to an emergency no one was in attendance, and that, if someone needed help, to call 911.

 

“Damn,” Stiles cursed, pushing himself away from the door in disgust. Who knew how long it would be before his father returned to the station, and it wasn’t as though there were many places nearby Stiles could hide in case the Whittemores came looking for him, so staying at the station and waiting for his dad to come back wasn’t an option.

 

Also, Stiles was getting tired. The water he had drunk had obviously not been enough, and Stiles didn’t need to look at his watch, mercifully still attached to his bloodied wrist, to know that it was getting very late.

 

Thanks, largely, to his encounter with Gerard Argent, Stiles hadn’t been sleeping a great deal lately, his anxious and restless mind too active to permit his body to fall into rest easily, and then, once Stiles was asleep, his dreams were plagued with nightmares…ones that Stiles was certain would only get worse after yet another family member of one of his classmates had done their best to beat the shit out of him, even if it was only an adopted family member. Stiles hadn’t actually been making an effort to count the hours of sleep he’d been getting, but he was willing the bet that it wasn’t enough, especially when factoring in the amount of blood he’d lost in the last few hours.

 

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Stiles lashed out, slamming his hand against the doorframe of the Sherriff’s department door, causing the door to rattle once again. Pain shot up his arm from the impact, and Stiles shook his hand, flexing his fingers in an attempt to get rid of the pain. It didn’t work overly well, but Stiles was reasonably certain he hadn’t seriously injured his hand.

 

Turning his back on the darkened building Stiles walked back down the steps, still determined not to get caught again.

 

He couldn’t go back home…it would be too obvious to the Whittemores, too easy for them to track him down and abduct him again, especially since he was injured. He could go to Scott’s, but it would be potentially putting Melissa in danger, and Stiles couldn’t imagine doing anything that could endanger Melissa, not if there was another option.

 

The animal clinic was long closed at this time of night, and even if Deaton was there for some reason, this was barely his area of expertise. Stiles needed somewhere safe, where he could call his dad and tell him what had happened, somewhere where he could hide until it was safe enough for him to go to hospital.

 

The answer was blatantly obvious, and Stiles heaved a sigh as he took a couple of short cuts, ducking through parks and along alleyways, avoiding the main roads, until he reached the tree line of the woods. With a nervous look over his shoulder, Stiles walked under the branches, vanishing into the darkness.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Roy was glad that Laurel and Diggle were there to hold Thea upright, because he was fairly certain that his own arms and legs were shaking far too much for him to have been able to support her. His legs were buckling under his own weight, without Thea’s weight, as little as it was, on top of it.

 

The Sherriff of Beacon Hills looked at Roy sympathetically, although Roy could see the tension beneath the gesture, how scared the man was. It was obvious that Sherriff Stilinski was barely holding himself together, and honestly, Roy couldn’t blame him. He could only imagine what on earth the man was thinking.

 

Roy was having a hard enough time getting his own thoughts into working order as he looked at the two images side by side. The one on the left, displayed on Felicity’s phone, showed Alex only a few days before he was taken, smiling cheekily up the camera, his amber eyes alight with happiness. In contrast the photo on the right, displayed on the Sherriff’s own phone, was of a little boy standing in a garden, who looked so conflicted, like he wanted to smile, but was too scared to, leaving him with a serious facial expression as he clutched a toy wolf in his little hands.

 

Although the little boy in the garden was obviously a little older than Alex had been when he’d been abducted Roy could tell that both images were of the same child…of his youngest son, who Roy had almost all but given up on, following David Whittemore’s speech.

 

In all honestly, Roy had thought that the best he might do is get a location on where Alex’s body had been left, if the Whittemore’s were pressured right during interrogation, so they could get some closure and finally bring him back home, alongside Robbie…or rather…Jackson.

 

After years of nothing Roy hadn’t ever permitted himself to hope, after Whittemore had boasted of his plans to break the family apart completely, that they’d find Alex alive, but here was proof that Alex had survived his ordeal as well, that he’d been taken into a home and cared for and loved.

 

“Was he talking yet, when he was taken?” The Sherriff asked. Thea still looked like she was struggling to process the news, so Roy spoke.

 

“Yes,” he replied, “A little, more than Robbie though.”

  

“It took ages for Stiles to start talking after he was rescued and Claudia and I took him in, but once he did the first word that came out of his mouth was Rob. I remember, I thought I was imagining things the first time he said it, he’d been practically silent for so long. Once he started though, he got his confidence pretty quick. I still remember the words he used to say over and over again. Rob, mamma and daddy and Olly and Lis and Dig. I just thought it was babbling, I never realized he was trying to tell us the names of people he knew.”

 

Thea sobbed where she stood, and Laurel tightened her grip on the younger woman, and Roy swallowed against the churning of his stomach as he tried to imagine how scared his little baby boy must have been.

 

Looking at the Sherriff’s face, though, Roy knew that Alex had been cared for, and was very much loved by the man who had taken him in after he’d been found in the woods. He could read it in the pain in the man’s eyes, the worried looks he kept sending his phone, as if he was waiting for his Alex to call him.

 

It was a painful reminder that, although they’d found both Robbie and Alex, they hadn’t actually found them. Both of the boys were missing, with Robbie…or Jackson…badly injured, and Alex…or Stiles, missing, possibly abducted by the same individuals that had orchestrated the twins initial abduction in the first place, and the same people who only briefly before had shot Robbie twice.

 

Roy was terrified that, if they found the twins, it would only be their bodies, or they would be on the verge of death, too badly hurt to save. It had sounded like it was the Whittemore’s plans, for everything to end with the death of Robbie, only Robbie had escaped, so they’d gone after Alex, perhaps knowing that the truth would come out.

 

As Roy thought about that frightening possibility, the Sheriff’s phone began to ring loudly, breaking the quiet of the clearing.

 

“Excuse me, Sorry,” The Sherriff apologized, moving his phone away from Roy and he retreated a few steps to answer the call.

 

“Hawkins, what did you guys find?”

 

Roy swallowed and looked away, pretending not to be listening into the phone call, although, really, if the Sherriff hadn’t wanted him to listen in he would have moved further away. Still, Roy was curious about what the deputy had to say.

 

Although, initially, Oliver and Felicity had gone with the Sherriff to his house so he could check on his son, the groups had swapped when they’d joined up with the rest of them in the car park of the Beacon Hills reserve. Oliver and Felicity had gone with Deputy Hawkins to check out a few further leads, while the Sherriff stayed with the rest of the group, sharing the information they’d gleaned from the crime scene at the front of the Sherriff’s house...as well as the bombshell that the Sherriff’s son was actually Alex.

 

They’d been joined by a large group of officers from Sacramento, and apparently there were crime scene teams working on the Whittemores house and the Sherriff’s front lawn, where Alex had been apparently abducted. Felicity had sent a group text, telling him that she, Oliver, Deputy Hawkins, and a couple of guys from Sacramento were going to David Whittemore’s office in town to look for clues, and reporting that she’d given Barry the blood samples she’d taken from the side of the jeep outside the Sherriff’s house to run back to Starling City and compare with the samples on file for Thea and Roy.

 

Roy frowned as he glanced at the Sherriff and saw how the man’s face, illuminated by the torches of the assembled police, had lost almost all it’s color, save for a slight greenish tinge. Roy felt his stomach clench tightly in fear. The Sherriff’s face could only mean bad news, and with both of the twins in danger at that moment, Roy immediately began to fear that all of their efforts had been for naught, and that both of the boys were dead.

 

Roy wasn’t sure how on earth he’d be able to cope if the twins were dead. The Whittemore’s had only enacted their plans because Roy and his friends started asking questions. If Team Arrow had kept their distance then the twins would still be alive. They’d found the twins, but instead of a happy reunion, they’d killed the two teenagers instead.

 

Feeling weak and more than a little sick, Roy sank to his knees on the floor as the Sherriff finally finished listening to whatever Deputy Hawkins had to say.

 

“Any sign of anyone…the Whittemore’s…Jackson…Stiles…anyone?” the Sherriff asked, his anxiety evident from his tone of voice. Roy startled when he felt a large hand resting on his shoulder, and looked up to see John Diggle crouching beside him, his eyes filled with empathy. Too emotionally drained to even act strong, Roy slumped against the older man wearily.

 

Roy missed what occurred during the next few minutes, zoning out as he tried to regain control of his emotions, trying to rationalize that the twins might both be alive, that they were strong and that until he had confirmation that they were actually dead he needed to believe they were alive, just like he had for the last fifteen years.

 

He only came back to reality when Diggle gave his shoulder a gentle shake. Sherriff Stilinski and was walking towards them, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

 

“That was Deputy Hawkins, they’ve conducted a search of David Whittemore’s office. There was no-one there, but there is fairly significant evidence that the Whittemores have been there since they shot Jackson. This…this isn’t good news I’ve got guys, and it’s not easy for me to say either. I just want you to prepare yourselves for this.”

 

“What happened?” Laurel asked, since nobody else spoke, her arm reassuringly around Thea’s shoulders.

 

“In David Whittemore’s office…there’s a lot of blood, and judging from what else was in the room, there is significant evidence that somebody was tortured in the room, although going from the evidence in the room it’s impossible to say whom yet…they’ll have to run DNA testing on the blood samples.   One of the crime scene guys and your friend Felicity are reviewing the CCTV footage from the security camera covering the rear alley entrance to the office, but the footage from tonight clearly shows the Whittemore’s arriving in a car, and that they had somebody unconscious in their boot, who was dragged inside. The person’s head was covered, but going from the build of the person…they think it’s Stiles, going from build. It’s too thin for Jackson Whittemore.”

 

“Oh, God,” Thea choked out as the Sherriff broke off, his eyes filling with tears as he looked away, obviously distraught by this news, barely able to keep himself together. Roy could only be impressed by how well the Sherriff was coping. It had to be difficult to stay professional, even when it meant talking about his son potentially being tortured.

 

“According to the time stamp on the video, the Whittemore’s left the office 87 minutes later, without anyone with them,” the Sherriff continued after he’d taken a moment to clear his throat and to wipe his eyes.

 

“Twenty minutes later Stiles comes out of the same door and leaves down the alley. They think that he was tied up in a chair and that when the Whittemore’s left he tipped the chair over and used broken glass to cut his bindings in order to escape.”

 

Diggle wasn’t able to hide his snort of amusement, and even Roy smiled proudly at Stiles’…Alex’s resourcefulness. It was pretty impressive, especially considering that the kid was only sixteen, and potentially had just been tortured.

 

“Do you know where he is?”  

 

“They’re still searching the local area. It looks like he took the time to bandage himself up a little, so he wasn’t leaving a blood trail, assuming he was the one that got…hurt in there.” the Sherriff sighed in defeat. Roy couldn’t help but inwardly groan at the twins’ knack for running away when they felt threatened; fleeing from both those that wanted to hurt them, and those trying to protect them. In some circumstances it was a good trait to have, but in the present situation Roy would have preferred that they had remained where they would be found easily.  

Now they had to go searching for two injured and frightened teenagers.

 

Both of whom knew the town, and its surroundings, far better than any of Team Arrow, and the officers from Sacramento too.

 

It was going to be a long night.  


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles all but collapsed against the tree, his trembling legs shaking too much to hold him upright as he sank to his knees, his breath coming in pained hitches that caused his broken ribs to burn as if they were on fire.

 

Time had lost all meaning to Stiles as he ambled and stumbled through the trees towards his goal…or at least, he hoped towards his goal. The moon was at its weakest, and Stiles didn’t have his phone, so he could use that to guide his way. Realistically he knew he could be going in completely the wrong direction, but to his overactive mind every noise was the Whittemore’s coming after him, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop…until now.

 

Even if he wanted to stand Stiles was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to be able to do it, his entire body drained of all energy. Even keeping his eyes open was a struggle, his vision graying in and out and spinning slightly as he dug his fingers into the earth in an attempt to anchor himself to reality. Stiles swallowed, before he leaned over sideways and threw up, the pain in his chest escalating as he heaved, although there wasn’t much for him to bring up.

 

Once his stomach muscles had calmed down once again, Stiles groaned and rested his head against the tree, trying to breathe through the pain, although he was actually very surprised…and pleased, that he hadn’t actually punctured his lung yet, thank God. He was no doctor, but Stiles knew that punctured lungs weren’t pleasant, and when combined with the fact that he had no idea where he was, he was alone and he had no way of contacting anyone, and he was in a remote location, a punctured lung would very quickly become fatal.

 

Still, Stiles didn’t want to die and leave his dad alone, and even though they hadn’t been so close lately, Scott would be devastated if Stiles died, blaming himself even though he’d had nothing to do with it.  

 

Looking up, Stiles could see the stars through a gap in the leaves far above him, and he smiled weakly to himself as his vision grayed out again, coming back to normal after a few seconds. The night sky really was very beautiful, even without a full moon for the wolves to howl at.

 

Stiles froze as his frazzled thoughts ran over one another, spinning around and round in his head in a way that wasn’t helping his probable concussion.

 

Howling…the way wolves communicated with one another over a distance. Stiles had no idea how close he was to the hale’s house, but maybe…just maybe, it would be close enough for Derek or one of the others to hear him...assuming they were all still there with Jackson.

 

Desperation and exhaustion encouraging him into action, Stiles took as deep a breath as his burning ribs would allow, and tilted his head back, before howling into the night air, as long and as loud as his battered body could manage. When he ran out of breath, Stiles inhaled again and howled a second time, his throat hurting from the amount of effort he was using. The third howl was shorter, leaving Stiles coughing and struggling to find his breath. For a moment he was worried that he had punctured a lung with his howling, but his breathing settled back down after a few minutes, and Stiles was fairly certain he wasn’t coughing up blood or anything like that, so he guessed he was in the clear.

 

Everything was getting darker though, and Stiles could barely keep his eyes open, despite knowing that he needed to stay awake. Despite the fact that it was summertime a chill had begun to seep into his bones, sapping away the little bit of energy he had left.

 

Stiles fought against the coldness…the darkness that threatened to wash over him, but it felt like he was fighting a losing battle, as if the darkness was determined to pull him under and let him drown in the depths. Eventually, though, he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and everything went black.

 

TEEN WOLF/ARROW

 

Scott and Derek both frowned and turned their heads towards the faint, distant noise. They were out in the woods, having gone looking for Stiles. Derek had split the back into three groups, with Jackson, Lydia and Boyd staying at the house to make sure Stiles didn’t turn up there, Erica and Isaac heading into Beacon Hills to search the town, which left Peter, Derek and Scott to search the woods. Derek had sent Peter off to search on his own, leaving Derek himself and Scott to work together.

 

“What was that?” Scott asked, “Was that Peter?”

  
Derek shook his head as he heard the noise again, this time fainter. A quick glance at Scott’s face told him that the younger werewolf hadn’t heard the second noise…and honestly, Derek was surprised that Scott had heard the first one at all, without Alpha abilities. It was such a faint noise, obviously from a long way away.

 

“Whatever…whoever, is making that noise, it’s not a werewolf.” Derek gruffly told Scott as a third noise drifted through the trees, this one fainter still, with even Derek struggling to hear it.

 

“Is it Stiles?” Scott asked, already moving towards the source of the noise. Derek hesitated. The noise could almost have been a howl, and even over the distance between the two werewolves and the source of the noise, Derek had been able to hear the desperation behind the call.

 

“Could be,” Derek conceded, although he privately hoped that it wasn’t Stiles. Whatever it was that made that noise had sounded like it was badly injured, perhaps even dying, and Derek didn’t want to think about what would happen to his already fragile pack if Stiles died.

 

In unison, the two werewolves began to run towards the source of the noise, dropping to all fours and racing through the trees, jumping over fallen trees and large rock formations, and leaping over dried creek beds. As they ran, Derek howled, calling out to whoever it was that had made the noise, and to Peter, just in case he was closer to the source of the noise than they were.

 

Peter howled in response, obviously further away from the source of the noise than they had been, but on his way towards them now, and Boyd howled as well, a questioning noise, as if the beta was enquiring if Derek needed him. Derek let out a short howl in response, ordering Boyd to stay where he was, but the original source of the noise was silent. Unconsciously, Derek increased his speed, Scott falling behind as Derek’s Alpha abilities meant he could go much faster than the younger werewolf.

 

Derek noted that they weren’t overly far from the Hale house, only a couple of miles to the east, and closing in fast on whomever it was that had howled. Fear began to trickle down Derek’s spine as he considered the possibility of it all being a trap, set by the Whittemores, or some other foe. The Argents had left town, so Derek was reasonably sure, at least, that it wasn’t them, especially with Gerard dead, or at least incapacitated, and Chris not quite as aggressive about hunting as the rest of his family. Still, the pack was vulnerable, and as of now, very spread out. Lydia wouldn’t be much help in a fight, and although Jackson was almost fully healed, it would still be a little longer before he was fully healed physically, let alone getting over the psychological shock of having his own adopted father shoot him twice in front of his alleged biological family.  

 

It didn’t take long for the scent of death began to trickle up Derek’s nose, combining with the coppery scent of blood, and the unique mix of scents that identified Stiles. Derek mentally flashed back to the day that he found baby Stiles in the woods as a seven year old, how he’d curled around the baby to keep him warm, hoping that his mother would arrive before Stiles’ stuttering heart stopped beating all together.

 

It had been a long time since Derek had remembered that day. It was relatively easy to mentally distance the vulnerable little baby he’d found in the woods as a child, and the annoying teenager that Stiles had become, but now, with the odor of death once again entwining itself with Stiles’ scent, the memories came flooding back.

 

Behind him, Derek heard Scott howl, followed by a hitched cry of “Stiles!” and knew that the younger werewolf had caught up and recognized Stiles’ scent, and the scent of blood. The smell of death was probably a new concept for Scott, but Derek knew that from now on, it would be forever entrenched in Scott’s mind, even if Stiles survived.

 

Derek put on another burst of speed, only slowing down when he saw Stiles, slumped against a tree. If Derek hadn’t been able to hear the sluggish beating of the human teenager’s heart then he would have thought that they were too late and that Stiles was dead. Stiles’ skin was pale, even more so than he was normally, although his lips were tinged blue. Derek ran to Stiles’ side, dropping to his knees beside the teenager.

 

“Hey, Stiles, wake up,” Derek ordered, gently touching Stiles’ shoulder in the hope of rousing him from unconsciousness, although he cringed when he saw the puddle of bile on the ground beside Stiles, as if he’d thrown up.

 

“Stiles!” Scott yelped as he came into sight, racing towards them and skidding in the dirt, “hey, Stiles, you’re ok, you’re gonna be ok…oh God that’s a lot of blood,”  

 

Derek glanced at the dirty and bloodstained strips of cloth that had been clumsily wrapped and tied around Stiles’ arms, and in various places around his chest and abdomen. Derek didn’t know where on earth Stiles had been when he’d been injured, but assuming he was in Beacon Hills when it had happened it was a minor miracle that he’d made it this far out. Derek knew that Jackson had done the same, but Jackson was a werewolf, and by the time he’d reached the Hale house he’d already been showing signs of healing. Stiles, in contrast, was so painfully human, and didn’t have the advantage of werewolf healing powers to help him.

 

“Derek, he needs the hospital,” Scott exclaimed fearfully, running his fingers through Stiles’ short hair gently, as if he was reassuring his friend, although Derek suspected that Scott was also reassuring himself.

 

“No,” Stiles mumbled, blearily opening his eyes and gazing at the two werewolves, his vision glazed and glassy looking, “no hospital.”

 

“Dude, look at yourself, you need, like, immediate help.” Scott protested.

 

“No…they’ll find me,” Stiles anxiously mumbled, leaning away from Scott, “Can’t let the others get hurt.”

 

“Who, Stiles, who will find you, who did this?”

 

“Jackson’s parents,” Stiles deliriously replied, his eyes fluttering, “what is it with family members of the pack trying to kill me?”

 

Scott and Derek exchanged pointed looks as Stiles passed out again, before Derek moved closer to the unconscious teenager.

 

“Run ahead and warn the others, call Erica and Isaac and tell them to meet us at the hospital, call your mother and the Sherriff too,” Derek ordered as he scooped Stiles up gingerly in his arms, being far more gentle about it than he had been with Jackson, having no idea what internal injuries Stiles might be carrying. He gripped a bare patch of Stiles’ arm with his hand and began drawing the teenager’s pain away, Derek’s own arms going black as he sucked the pain form Stiles’ body, and let his own body absorb it. Scott fled, running towards the back of the house, passing Peter as he arrived in the clearing.

 

“Really…two of the pack in one night?”

 

“Shut up, you get to stay at the house with Jackson and Lydia until Jackson’s well enough to join us at the hospital. Everyone thinks you’re dead, so it’s not like you can be at the hospital with us.”

 

Peter nodded and stepped out of the way, and Derek moved as quickly as he could without jostling Stiles back towards the Hale house.

 

ARROW/TEENWOLF

 

Roy and Laurel were walking alongside the Sherriff, taking turns to call for Jackson and Stiles, both of them able to hear the barking of the tracking dogs that the Sacramento officers had brought with them.

 

The loud ringing of the Sherriff’s phone jerked Roy out of his thoughts, and he and Laurel both stopped walking forward so the Sherriff could answer it. They had been scanning the ground with their torches, searching for any sign of the two missing teenagers, but hadn’t seen anything yet other than the occasional spot of blood on the undergrowth, or a scuffed footprint.

 

Diggle and Thea were nearby, also scanning the woods for Jackson and Stiles, while Oliver and Felicity were on their way to them, with no new information to be gained from the crime scene at David Whittemore’s office at this point.

 

It wasn’t the first phone call that the Sherriff had received since Roy and Laurel had started searching the woods with the Sherriff. The first call had been from the Sacramento detective in charge of processing the crime scene at David Whittemore’s office.

 

Both David and Louise Whittemore had been arrested, and were being transported back to Sacramento, since the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s department didn’t currently have the number of staff needed to monitor the pair. Apparently they’d been approaching the office, returning to the scene of one of their crimes, and had apparently tried to escape when they’d realized that the police were already there. A short car chase had followed, before both of the Whittemoire’s had been safely apprehended, searched and cuffed.

 

David Whittemore had been carrying a loaded gun when he’d been arrested, and had said something about ‘blowing the mouthy little shit’s head off.’ In addition to the gun the police had also found a jerry can filled with gasoline in the back of the car, along with a few cans of paint, and a couple of bags of fertilizer, enough flammable material to well and truly burn Whittemore’s office down should he have had the opportunity.

 

Roy had felt physically sick when he’d heard the Sherriff shakily repeat the news, knowing that Whittemore had been referring to Alex when he’d mentioned a ‘mouthy little shit’, and although Roy had initially been frustrated by the fact that Alex…Stiles…had escaped and hidden where he couldn’t be found, Roy had been suddenly very glad that Stiles had gotten away when he had.

 

This, second, call, however, didn’t look like it was going to be as full of news, judging from the way the Sherriff quietly cursed and rolled his eyes when he glanced at his phone, murmuring something about kids and never answering their phones, and then ringing you back when it wasn’t a good time to talk.  

 

“Scott, I’m a little busy right now, can we make this quick?’ The Sherriff answered his phone, sending an apologetic look towards Roy and Laurel, before his face paled alarmingly and confusion flashed across his face.

 

“Hang on, slow down, Scott, what did you just say?” the Sherriff asked, reaching out and holding onto a nearby tree for support as he listened to whoever it was he was talking to…maybe Stiles’ best friend, although Roy knew that the Sherriff might know more than one person named Scott..

 

“Where?”    

 

“Crap, I’m on my way, do you want me to send an ambulance up?”

 

“Ok, you’re probably right, just be careful and tell Hale that if he crashes I will personally make sure he never drives again. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

 

The Sherriff hung up and grabbed his walky talky, “This is Sherriff Stilinski,” he spoke into it, “Stiles has been located and is en route to hospital, I’m going to head out and meet them there. Murdoch, are you right to take control of packing up?”

 

Murdoch, a man about the Sherriff’s age, who was the Sherriff of the neighboring county, replied in the affirmative.

 

“Where was he?” Deputy Motlop queried.

 

“About two or three miles east of the old Hale House, Scott and Derek Hale found him passed out against a tree.”

 

Nobody said anything in response to that, all of them knowing how lucky Stiles had been to be found, let alone alive. The Sherriff turned and began quickly walking, almost running, back towards where the cars had all been parked

 

Roy’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out, finding a three word message from Thea. He was moving after the Sherriff, with Laurel at his heels, before he even finished reading it.

 

‘Go with him.’

 

TEEN WOLF/ARROW

 

“Help,” Scott yelled as he ran through the doors of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Boyd at his heels, holding the door open for Derek, who had Stiles in his arms. Erica and Isaac ran up to them, along with a team of nurses with a gurney.

 

The drive back into Beacon Hills had been one of the most terrifying experiences of Scott’s life. He’d been in the front passenger seat of the Camaro, Stiles cradled in his lap, the seat belt done up over the both of them to minimize any jolting or jostling they might experience, while Derek drove and Boyd rode in the back seat.

 

Scott hadn’t even noticed how fast they’d gone as Derek had driven from the Hale house into Beacon Hills, his entire world limited to Stiles, cradled in his arms, Scott taking advantage of his brand new skills and absorbing his best friend’s pain as well as he could, very aware of the fact that Stiles’ wounds were still sluggishly bleeding.

 

All Scott could focus on was how badly his best friend…his brother, had been hurt, and that he hadn’t been there to protect him. While it looked like the attack hadn’t had anything to do with the supernatural, Scott still wondered if somehow this was his fault, that his association with Stiles was the reason his best friend was unconscious and dangerously close to bleeding out.   

 

Around him medical personnel swarmed over Stiles, shouting things that Scott didn’t understand, before they started wheeling Stiles away. Scott moved to follow, but a solid weight across his chest…Derek arm, Scott realized, held him back.

 

“They’re going to do all they can for him,” Derek told him, his voice surprisingly gentle, “we just need to give them some space.”

 

Scott sniffed, and realized that there were tears rolling down his face as he struggled reaching out for Stiles and whimpering as Derek held him back as Stiles was wheeled out of sight.

 

“He’s strong, he’ll fight this, he won’t give up easily,” Derek told him rubbing Scott’s back gently with the arm that wasn’t restraining him. Scott let out a choked off gasp and felt his legs collapse beneath him, Derek kneeling down behind him.

 

“Stiles?” Scott whimpered, his voice broken and desperate, his inner wolf fighting o be let out, to get to its injured pack mate.

 

Scott had no idea how long had and Derek sat on the floor of the emergency room waiting area, the rest of the pack surrounding them, as if Scott had never betrayed them in order to defeat Gerard. It was only when the doors opened once again and his mom was finally there that Scott blinked out of his thoughts.

 

“Scott…Scotty, are you ok?” Melissa anxiously asked. Derek let go of Scott and moved backwards, out of the way, and Scott hugged his mother, burying his face in her neck as he clung to her like he was a little kid, frightened by a nightmare. Scott supposed that seeing Stiles hurt like that...it had been one of his nightmares, turned into reality.

 

“I’m ok, Stiles isn’t. He’s so badly hurt mom, and he wouldn’t wake up, and he felt cold.”

 

“Was he breathing when he arrived here?” Melissa asked, throwing the question out to any of the assembled teenagers, or Derek.

 

“Yeah, he was breathing,” Boyd nodded when none of the others spoke. Melissa opened her mouth to reply, but she was interrupted by the approaching wailing of sirens. She snapped her heard towards the doors as the Sherriff’s car skidded to a stop, not far from where Derek had left his car, and the Sherriff, along with another man, that looked surprisingly like an older version of Jackson, and a woman, quickly got out and raced into the building.

 

“John,” Melissa called, the moment they all got inside, letting go of Scott to approach the Sherriff. Scott moved to get up as well, but his trembling legs couldn’t hold his weight. Isaac and Erica, however, stepped forward,, helping upright and helping hold up Scott’s weight.

 

“Mel…how is he…is he ok?”

 

“I only just got here, but he was apparently breathing when he arrived.”

 

“Huh,” the Sherriff nodded, looking over Melissa’s shoulder, at Scott, Derek, Isaac, Erica and Boyd. His eyes widened dramatically when his eyes roamed over Scott, and Scott, frowned in confusion, looking down, only for his stomach to lurch uncomfortably when he saw the dark stain on his dark grey t-shirt. A glance at Derek told him that the alpha’s leather jacket was similarly wet in places, drenched with Stiles’ blood, just like Scott was.

 

The Sherriff opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, then he snapped it shut, and forcibly swallowed, his skin paling considerably.

 

“You guys all ok?” he eventually spoke, his voice tight with emotion. Scott blinked and gave a weak nod, while Erica, Isaac, Boyd and even Derek all looked more than a little shocked that the Sherriff had included them in his question.

 

“Good, would one of you like to explain what the hell happened?”


	13. Chapter 13

Watching as the trees passed the window Jackson let his thoughts drift back to what had happened that night. It had started off normally enough. He had planned to chill out on his own and watch a movie (not The Notebook), since he hadn’t had much alone time in the last few days, in between trying to seem normal around Danny, and spending a lot of time out in the woods with Derek and his pack learning to control his new werewolf powers. Even though he generally liked being around people (when they weren’t annoying, like Stiles, or stupid, like McCall), Jackson did, from time to time, like to spend a little bit of time on his own to just unwind and to just exist without having to wear a mask and be the popular jock everyone thought he was.

 

It would only be a matter of time before one of the werewolves would catch on that the mask Jackson wore when he was around people was just that…a mask to hide behind so that nobody would really know the real him. The only person who had ever seen Jackson with his mask down was Danny, who had witnessed it on a couple of occasions when Jackson had been too tired to keep the mask up anymore. Danny had seen the pathetic, sad angry little boy that didn’t understand why his parents…who had chosen to adopt him, it wasn’t like they were forced into, didn’t love him. Amazingly, and Jackson wouldn’t ever be not surprised by this, Danny had stuck with Jackson, despite how much of an ass Jackson often was to those around him.

 

Even as he sat in the car as it travelled towards Beacon Hills, pushing the speed limit, despite the windy roads, Jackson struggled to keep his mask up, the events of the evening washing over him again and again, as if they were trying to drown him.

 

Jackson hadn’t been surprised when his mother…adopted mother…had come to collect him from his room. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be dragged out in front of his father’s friends, and Jackson had reasoned it would only get worse after the Lacrosse state championship victory, even though his adopted father hadn’t even been at the match. Thanks to his werewolf hearing, though, he knew that these visitors weren’t his father’s friends…or even people his father knew very well. Jackson knew about the Queen family, there wasn’t anyone in America, or even the developed world, that didn’t know about the Queens. In terms of wealth they were up there with the Luthors and Bruce Wayne, although these days they were also known for being very humble about their wealth.

 

The name Queen was almost synonymous with the term tragedy, but Jackson hadn’t ever expected to be one of those tragedies. The little information he’d been able to find, or had been given, about the Millers had been enough to convince him beyond a doubt that they were his biological parents, so he hadn’t wasted time considering other potential situations or possibilities.

 

Even though he didn’t love his adopted parents, and after the events of that night Jackson was fairly sure he’d never trust them again either, even if he had trusted them before, Jackson had believed David Whittemore’s story about him actually being related to the Queens. It made a lot of sense, and Jackson remembered the man that had been sitting on the couch in the Whittemore’s sitting room…the one he looked so much like. There was no way to explain the resemblance between the two of them without them being related.

 

“Are you ok?” Lydia asked softly as she drove, her gaze darting sideways at him, before she turned her attention back to the road.

 

“Yeah,” Jackson shrugged, “Honestly not as surprised as I should have been.”

 

“Your dad shot you, Jackson, that’s a big deal, and I know that you’re a werewolf, and you heal, but it was still your dad, and he still tried to kill you.”

 

“That’s just the thing,” Jackson pointed out heavily, ‘it wasn’t my dad, David Whittemore has never been my dad, even before I knew that I was adopted he was a shit father. Not like Isaac’s dad was, until tonight he’s never been…like that… but you know what I mean. I’ve been closer to Danny’s dad than David Whittemore for years now. Admittedly I was a little surprised by the fact that the Millers weren’t my parents…that I’m one of the Harper-Queen twins, and that David Whittemore is a psychopath to rival Peter, but I’m dealing. I wish we didn’t have to go to the hospital and wait for Stilinski to get better though.”

 

“I’m not surprised Derek told us to come when you were ready. Both you and Stiles have been attacked, and as far as we know none of the attackers have been arrested or killed. That’s two members of his small pack, Jackson. Of course he wants to keep everyone close so that he can watch everyone’s back.”

 

Jackson knew that Lydia was right…she always was after all. As far as the pack knew, the Whittemore’s were still out there, and although Jackson was fairly confident that the Whittemores wouldn’t go after one of the others, there was still a risk.

 

Knowing that the rest of the pack would honestly be a relief, Jackson thought to himself, as it meant that he wouldn’t be the only one protecting Lydia, just in case the Whittemores tried to draw him out using Lydia. A text to Danny from Isaac’s phone, since Jackson’s phone was still at his house, had warned Danny to stay inside with his parents, and not to let the Whittemore’s inside. Jackson only hoped that it would be enough to keep his best friend safe.

 

Both Jackson and Lydia were quiet for the rest of the drive, not saying anything until Lydia had pulled into the hospital car park and turned off the engine.

 

“Thank-you, for staying back with me.” Jackson offered awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue “and for letting yourself be dragged into this. I know you said that you didn’t want anything to do with the pack.”

 

“No,” Lydia shook her head, “I don’t mind doing this with you. Besides, I thought we were all reasonably clear on the fact that this didn’t have anything to do with you being a werewolf.”

 

“Still, thanks,” Jackson grunted, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. He waited for Lydia to get out, and they walked towards the emergency room together. As he walked Jackson adjusted his mask, refusing to show any of the pack how much the events of that night had shaken him. He straightened his back and adopted his useualy, strutting stride, gently tugging on the hem of the t-shirt that Derek had let him borrow, although the t-shirt hung loosely from Jackson’s shoulders, a change from his usual snug fitting, brand name clothing.

 

Still, Jackson strode into the Emergency room with Lydia beside him, his keen senses helping him locate Scott’s mother, who was standing at the reception desk, looking very weary.

 

“Mrs. McCall?” Lydia called, approaching the woman, who turned and surveyed them, her brown eyes lingering curiously at Jackson.

 

“How’s Stiles? Can you please tell us where Scott, Isaac, Erica and the others are?” Lydia asked.

 

“Stiles is in surgery,” Melissa replied with a frown, “Aren’t you supposed to be missing?’ she asked Jackson curiously, “Half of the Sherriff’s department, and search teams from Sacramento are out in the woods looking for you.”

 

“Er, I’m right here,” Jackson shrugged, and Melissa shot his an assessing look that made him feel as though she could see right through him and read his thoughts.

 

“Ok then, the Sherriff will want an explanation…not tonight though.” Melissa beckoned and lead them down a corridor, eventually stopping outside a waiting room.

 

“They’re all in here,” she explained, “I’ll go see if I can get an update on how Stiles is going.”

 

“Thank you, “Lydia replied with a smile that didn’t quite make her eyes, while Jackson simply nodded his thanks, opening the door and letting himself and Lydia into the room, closing it behind them as Melissa walked away.

 

Jackson let his eyes scan across the room, taking in the rest of the pack, looking worried and more than a little strung put, and the Sherriff, naturally…along with a woman that Jackson recognized as one of the women that had been at the Whittemores house earlier that night.

 

His eyes, however, locked onto the man, sitting in a chair and staring at him…the man that looked so much like Jackson imagined himself looking twenty or so years into the future…the man who, supposedly, was his biological dad.

 

Jackson’s biological dad…and a female friend of his were in the waiting room too…and they’d both seen Jackson get shot twice only a few hours earlier, and were now seeing Jackson walk in, completely fine, and bearing no sign of ever being injured in the first place.

 

“Shit.” Jackson swore under his breath as the obvious shock settled on the faces of the pair from Starling City.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Laurel felt her heart leap into her throat when she saw Jackson Whittemore walk into the waiting room they’d been ushered into to wait for news about Stiles Stilinski’s recovery. She reached out and wrapped her hand around Roy’s fingers, squeezing them gently, offering support, without saying anything, while at the same time she was careful not to tear her gaze away from Jackson…Robbie, just in case he fled again.

 

It was amazing how much Jackson took after Roy. Even the slightly arrogant set of his shoulders and the angry glint in his eye reminded her of Roy back when he was a teenager, before he’d met Thea, and Oliver had given him a purpose. What was even more amazing of how…well…the teenager looked. Laurel had been shot before, numerous times, much to the horror of her father, but even after the lightest graze she hadn’t looked as healthy as Jackson did only a few short hours later…and Jackson had been shot twice, and only one of them could be even come close to being considered to be shallow.

 

Yet, the teenager was standing, his complexion healthy and flawless under the harsh lighting of the hospital room, standing on his own two feet with no sign of any weakness. Although the t-shirt he was wearing was loose, it was still fairly obvious that he wasn’t heavily bandaged in the areas where he’d been shot.

 

Laurel reached into her pocket with her spare hand; fingering her phone gently, remembering the group text that Barry had sent out to them all…informing them that Jackson Whittemore and Robbie Harper-Queen were the same person, according to the DNA samples Felicity had collected, although just from looking at Jackson it was obvious that he was Roy and Thea’s son. Barry had simply confirmed beyond a doubt what they’d all already known. It still remained uncertain whether or not Stiles Stilinski and Alex Harper-Queen were the same person, as Barry was still running Stiles’ DNA and comparing it to Alex, Thea and Roy’s, but Laurel was very confident, especially considering that he’d been attacked by the Whittemores, who really, had no other reason to go anywhere near him.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be missing?” Sherriff Stilinski asked wearily from where he sat, reaching for his phone.

 

Jackson shrugged, “Just went for a walk in the woods. No laws against that.”

 

The Sherriff rose to his feet and began calling one of his deputies, calling off the search for Jackson, and thanking everyone for coming out at nighttime. Roy too rose to his feet, pulling his hand from Laurel’s grip and approaching Jackson, who pushed the redhead he’d entered with behind him protectively. Roy froze at the protective gesture, stopping in his tracks.

 

“How?’ Roy eventually croaked out, “How are you still upright…I…I thought you would be in bad shape. You got shot…twice.”

 

Laurel didn’t need to be able to see Roy’s face to know that the younger man was thinking about the mirakuru and the havoc to toxin had played on his system. Even though over a year had passed in between Roy last feeling any effects of the Miracuru, and the twins being conceived, Roy had been terrified that there would be some carry over onto his children, something that only Roy himself and Sara had known about until the twins were about six months old. It had always seemed that Jackson’s fears had been baseless, but now Laurel wasn’t so sure. There was no way Jackson could be as healthy as he was.

 

Long years as a lawyer, and being the daughter of a police officer, had made Laurel very good and picking up on people’s tells, and the quick, nervous, sideways glance that Jackson shot towards the man who had been introduced as Derek Hale, immediately told her that he was involved. Sheriff Stilinski, having finished his phone call, obviously came to the same conclusion.

 

“Why has everything turned to shit in this town since you got here, Hale?” The Sherriff sighed, “Alright…Scott, I want full explanation…now.”

 

“Um?” Scott McCall began, biting is lip, his eyes widening and looking alarmingly puppy like. Laurel wasn’t fooled, and it was obvious that the Sherriff wasn’t either. Roy wasn’t even paying attention to the boy that they had both been introduced to upon arriving at the hospital. He was too busy staring at Jackson.

 

“Scott…please…is it drugs? Is Stiles involved in this too?”

 

“No, it’s not drugs, and as for Stiles being involved,” Scott cringed, “that would depend on how you would define being involved.”

 

The Sheriff rubbed a weary hand over his face, “Scott, that line stopped being cute when Stiles used it when he was six…don’t start,” he warned.

 

“Stiles isn’t like us, but he knows,” Scott admitted. Derek Hale lifted his eyes pleadingly at the ceiling.

 

“Like us…so you’re involved too?” The Sherriff scowled, his voice rising slightly. Laurel immediately noticed the way the tall, blonde haired teenager that had been introduced as Isaac shied away from the noise.

 

“Maybe we should just spill the beans?” the teenaged girl, Erica, suggested, although Laurel noticed how she directed the question at Derek Hale. It was obvious that, whatever this was, he was the leader.

 

The conversation was halted by a knocking on the door, which was opened by a tanned, middle aged woman, accompanied by Scott’s mother, Melissa McCall.

 

“Mel…how is he?’ The Sherriff asked, turning his back on everyone in the room.  

  

“Dr. Mendoza will be able to tell you everything, John,” Melissa reassured gently, briefly resting her hand on John’s shoulder, before she walked over to where her son sat and embraced him.

 

The Sherriff shook hands with Dr. Mendoza, “how is he?” he asked, is voice more than a little choked up with emotion.

 

Dr. Mendoza smiled, “he’s a lot better off than we initially though when he was brought here. We took him into surgery as early scans showed signs of a small bleed in his abdominal cavity, which we’ve repaired. We’ve also sutured up the surface injuries to his skin. I won’t lie to you, there will be scars left behind, and he’ll need to be closely monitored to ensure they don’t get infected. We’ve also taped his broken and cracked ribs to prevent complications terming from those. Our biggest concern was hypovolemic shock, but we’ve managed to stabilize his blood pressure by giving him two blood transfusions. His early signs of recovery are good, but it will still be a few more hours, at least, before we can be certain that there hasn’t been any permanent damage.”

  
“Permanent damage?” The Sherriff echoed faintly.

 

Dr. Mendoza nodded, “The most common complications seen from hypovolemic shock are gangrene, brain damage, and kidney damage. Stiles has no sign of gangrene, but we will be monitoring his condition closely to rule out the other complications I mentioned. Due to the extent of his injuries, we’ll be keeping him asleep for at least another twenty four hours, perhaps longer, and I will warn you know that, when he does wake up, he will be very groggy and disorientated. This doesn’t mean he has acquired brain damage.”

 

“What will it mean?’ Scott McCall asked curiously from his mother’s side. Dr. Mendoza gave him a kindly look.

 

“He’s on really good pain meds right now, and will continue to be for a while. We can’t lay him on his stomach or his side, because of his ribs and the risk he might puncture a lung, but his back is very sore at the moment. Once his back starts healing we’ll start weaning him back off the painkillers, and he’ll wake up. We also noticed signs of older injuries, some bruising that looked to be a week old, or maybe a little older. Do any of you know what they were from, they looked rather extensive.”

 

“Stiles was beaten up the night of the lacrosse final, he said it was some people from the other team, but I don’t know if he was telling the truth. He didn’t seem to be in too much pain. I should have made him come here and get checked out, or at least gotten Melissa to check him over,” the Sherriff admitted.

 

“Stiles said the same thing to me,” Scott McCall agreed. Laurel scanned her eyes over the rest of the group on the other side of the room. Most of them looked unfazed by the news, although the blond girl and the tall boy sitting beside her were both exchanging very guilty looking expressions, and the blond boy beside them had gone a little pale as he looked at the Sherriff, before he shook his head and instead focused on his hands.

 

“Can I see him?” The Sherriff asked hopefully, breaking the silence in the room

 

“Yes, but only for short periods, and only two people at a time,” Dr. Mendoza nodded, “I will warn you, he’s got a lot of equipment around him at the moment. Some families can find it a bit intimidating.”

 

The Sherriff simply nodded and began to walk towards the door. Melissa McCall rose to her feet, ruffling her son’s hair reassuringly, before she joined the Sherriff, and the two of them followed Dr. Mendoza from the room.

 

Laurel looked around at the teenagers, all of them looking more than a little pale. Robbie had retreated back to a corner, and had sunk into a unoccupied chair, the strawberry blonde girl sitting beside him. Roy too looked more than a little shaken, and it was very easy for Laurel to physically coax him back into his chair. She wanted answers, but she knew that now wasn’t the time. These teenagers didn’t need to be interrogated about what was going on when they’d just heard how badly their friend was hurt.

 

In her pocket, her phone vibrated, and Laurel pulled it out, tapping the screen to open up the new group text from Barry, her throat tightening as she read the message.

 

_‘Confirmed DNA match between blood sample A (retrieved from exterior of Jeep), sample B (sample of Stiles Stilinksi’s DNA) and sample C (DNA on record from Alexander Harper-Queen). They are the same person.’_


	14. Chapter 14

Sherriff Stilinski was very familiar with hospital rooms, thanks to both Stiles’ injuries when he was first found in the woods as a baby, and Claudia’s illness years later. Despite that, and Dr. Mendoza’s warnings, his stomach still clenched tightly as he walked into Stiles’ hospital room, taking in the unconscious teenager lying on the bed, his skin unnaturally pale against the white sheets and blankets, tubes and monitors connected to his thin body.

 

The most frightening part, however, wasn’t how ill Stiles looked, but the fact that he wasn’t moving. Ever since the Sherriff first remembered seeing Stiles conscious all those years ago, the boy had rarely been still, even before he’d truly begun to relax around Claudia and the Sherriff as the memories of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of those who had abducted him begun to fade from his young mind.

 

Stiles had always seemed to be a whirlwind of activity, and yet, here he was, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest, the oxygen mask placed over his mouth fogging up gently with each exhale.

 

Oblivious to Dr. Mendoza as she quietly excused herself and ducked out of the room, Sherriff Stilinski walked further into the room, across to his son’s bedside. He gazed over Stiles, his blue eyes filling with worry as he saw the heavy bandaging around Stiles wrists. It was fairly obvious that Stiles had only cut himself like than in his attempts to escape David Whittemore’s office, but it was still a bit of a shock to see the white bandages that he so frequently saw whenever his job had taken him out to Eichen House around the wrists of his son.

 

Reaching out, Sheriff Stilinski very gently rested his hand on Stiles’ arm, careful to avoid touching anywhere that looked even the slightest bit bruised.

 

“Hey, Buddy,” he choked out, his throat tightening with emotion, “You’re gonna be, ok, alright? They’ve got the Whittemore’s in custody; they won’t get you, not again. I’m so, so sorry, Stiles, I should have caught them before they got to you. I should have put the pieces together and made the connection between you and the Harper-Queen boys. You would have done it though, you would have it all worked out in minutes.”

 

“”You shouldn’t blame yourself, John,” Melissa offered gently, stepping up beside him and resting a supportive hand on his shoulder, “Stiles wouldn’t blame you.”

 

“He almost died, Mel,” The Sherriff sobbed, his vision blurring from his tears, as he glanced at the IV line that was feeding a bag of blood directly into Stiles’ bloodstream, “I almost lost him.”

 

“Stiles is strong, he always has been. He’ll bounce back, you’ll see. Give him a few weeks and he’ll be back to normal.”

 

“I’ll still lose him, Mel. He’s one of the Harper-Queen twins. His biological family is going to want him back. I can’t stop them from taking him. He’ll be alive, and he’ll be away from whatever shenanigans Derek Hale’s dragged those teenagers into, and I’m happy about that, but he’ll be on the other side of the country, and he will be with his real family. He doesn’t need me anymore. Who am I kidding; he hasn’t needed me in years.”

 

The sharp stinging of the back of his head brought John out of his thoughts, and he realized that Melissa had just head slapped him in the back of the head, just like one of her favorite characters in that navy cop show that Melissa enjoyed watching when they were having a quiet night.

 

“John,” she told him sternly, “Stiles still needs you…still loves you, no matter what, ok? There is no way Stiles would not consider you a part of his real family. Yes, he might have been born one of the Harper-Queen boys, but he became a Stilinski. Besides, from what you’ve told me since I got to the hospital tonight this means that Stiles and Jackson Whittemore are twin brothers. I only hope that their biological parents don’t try and make them share a room or something.”

 

John couldn’t help the snort of laughter that left his mouth at the very suggestion of Stiles and Jackson Whittemore ever living in the same bedroom, “They’ll kill each other; they wouldn’t even survive one night.”

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Walking into a room of sleeping teenagers was not what Oliver had expected when he’d walked into the waiting room that Laurel had shown him into, Thea, Felicity and Diggle following behind him. A quick glance around the room told him that Jackson Whittemore, or rather, Robbie Harper-Queen, as he had been formerly known, was there, safe and sound and mysteriously healthy, but Roy wasn’t there, for some reason.

 

Relief washed over Oliver as he took in the sight of his nephew, not even bothering to disguise the way he was staring. The teenager, one of the few in the room still awake, simply gave Oliver and the rest of the group an assessing look, lifting his eyebrow, as if challenging them. It was a gesture that Oliver remembered vividly from both Roy and Thea’s teenaged years, and Oliver couldn’t help but think about what the teenager had said to his adopted father, about how he’d never known genuine affection.

 

It felt as though history had repeated itself. Roy’s teenaged years had been spent on the streets, orphaned and alone, while Thea had only been twelve when the Queen’s Gambit had gone down, leaving Thea’s father in all but blood dead (not that they’d knonw at that point that Malcolm was Thea’s biological father), her mother devastated and busy running Queen Consolidated and Oliver himself stranded on the island and unable to help, leaving both of Robbie’s biological parents angry and without anyone to show them any love.    

                   

Things would change now for the teenager, although Oliver wasn’t naïve enough to think that it would be an easy transition for any of them.

 

Now, however, wasn’t the time to start dealing with that. Oliver knew teenagers, both from his own teenaged years, and from his vigilante work, to know not to push too fast too soon. He followed Laurel to a cluster of seats at the opposite side of the room to where Robbie and his friends were sitting, slumped wearily in their seats or snoring softly, before he sat down.

 

Oliver took a moment to cast his eyes over the group, aware that Thea was doing the same from the other side of Laurel. Felicity and Diggle sat beside him, both of them trying to hide the curious looks they were giving the cluster of teenagers.

 

There were six teenagers, including Robbie, as well as a man who Oliver guessed was a little older, maybe in his early to mid twenties. His presence was a little confusing, but Oliver guessed from the protective looks he kept giving the teenagers (which reminded Oliver vividly of the looks he used to give Thea) that he was an older sibling of one of them.

 

“The girl with Robbie, her name is Lydia,” Laurel told them in a hushed tone, “the blonde girl is named Erica, the tall boy with blonde hair is named Isaac, the boy that they’re both leaning on is called Boyd, the other boy with dark hair is called Scott, and the older guy is Derek Hale. He and Scott were the ones who found Stiles…Alex.”

 

“Where’s Roy?” Thea asked quietly now that Laurel had broken the silence.

 

“The Sherriff took him to go and see Alex, he’s only allowed two visitors at a time.”

 

“Have you been and seen him?”

 

Lauren shook her head sympathetically, “No, but I was here when the doctor came and told the Sherriff about his injuries. He’s lucky, so far no sign of permanent injury, although they’ll know more when he wakes up.”

 

Oliver swallowed the sick feeling that was rising in his throat at how close he’d come to losing one of his nephews. Thea’s face lost little color it had, and she leaned into Laurel’s side.

 

“At least Roy is with him,” she offered reassuringly.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Roy could only sit in the chair at the unconscious teenager’s bedside and watch as the kid’s chest rose and fell gently with every breath he took. On the other side of the bed stat the Sherriff, and Roy was very aware of the older man’s eyes on him.

 

“Thank-you, for letting me come in here with you,” he said earnestly, “I know that…that we won’t know anything official until the DNA samples come back, so you didn’t have to let me see him.”

 

Roy had been very careful not to let on that he already knew beyond a doubt that the unconscious boy in front of him was Alex. It would be too hard to explain how they would manage to get results from the DNA tests so soon without blowing Barry’s cover, as well as risking the cover of everyone else. Just because Laurel and Sara’s father was in the know, and had been ever since the night of the kidnapping, didn’t mean that all police would be so accepting of it, and the Sherriff of Beacon hills was still, essentially, a stranger.  

The Sherriff sighed and shrugged, his eyes flicking to Stiles’ pale face, “I’ve always been worried about the day when somebody would come and claim him as their own. I had so many different scenarios in my head about how things would happen…what the hell happened that led to Derek Hale finding him in the woods that day. The only thing we were fairly confident on was that whoever dumped him out there to die…they were male. The way Stiles reacted towards guys in general for the first few months supported the suggestion that whoever his abuser was, it was male. We didn’t know if it was his father, step father, or some other male member of the family.”

 

“I wouldn’t ever hurt either of my boys,” Roy defended.

 

The Sherriff nodded understandingly, “I’m not saying that you did. We knew that whatever had happened to Alex, up until a couple of months before he’d been found, he’d been physically fine. No sign of any injuries or broken bones older than a few months. He was found in May, and abducted in February; we know it definitely wasn’t you. Everything the doctors found had been inflicted after the abduction.”

 

Roy solemnly nodded, relaxing into his seat. A part of him wanted to know what injuries had been inflicted on his infant son, how badly he’d been injured by those who had left him to die, alone in the woods, but there was a greater part of him that didn’t want to know. It was obvious form the way the Sherriff spoke, from the expression on his face, that it had been bad…that it was probably a miracle that the little toddler had survived, even before he’d been abandoned.

 

A lengthy silence stretched out between the two men before Roy spoke again, hoping to bring the topic of discussion back onto a more pleasant subject, or at least, as pleasant as it could get when they were sitting at the bedside of the boy both of them considered their son.

 

“What’s he like? What can you tell me about him?”

 

A smile spread on the Sherriff’s face, “He’s never still. Melissa and Claudia used to both say that he was a whirlwind of activity. In our home…Silence is the thing that scares me. It’s when he’s quiet that you know he’s either hurting over something, or he’s planning some new mischief, and that is the time to be careful around him. He acts like a joker, the comic relief, but everyone who knows him well...which is limited to about Scott, Melissa and Myself, know it’s an act to hide how vulnerable he is. He doesn’t trust people easily, and he keeps things bottled up, ignores them until they go away. He’s smart, so much smarter than I think he even realizes, and he’s loyal, and so damn protective of those he cares about. His favorite food is curly fries, he likes comic books and superhero movies and I honestly don’t know what his favorite colour is, either red or blue.”

 

Roy couldn’t help but smile, “It sounds like you and your wife raised a great kid. Thank you…for looking after him so well. Even though I missed him more than I can describe over the years, I’m glad that at least you were there keeping him safe.”

 

The Sherriff sniffed, tears shining in his eyes, “Thank you, Mr. Harper. That…that means a lot. I’m sorry you and your family had to go through the pain of having your boys taken away from you. I know Claudia would have felt the same.”

 

“Call me Roy,” Roy offered, “Everyone in the press and the media calls me Mr. Harper, and it just feels weird.”

 

“Alright,” the Sherriff nodded, “You can call me John then. Can I give you a little advice?”

 

“Sure, I think we’re going to need it,” Roy admitted honestly.

 

John chuckled, “Don’t expect the boys to get on…at all. They’ve mutually hated each other since at least third grade, probably even earlier than that. I lost track of how many times Stiles referred to Jackson as Poopy-pants Whittemore when they were in elementary school, and Jackson isn’t fond of Stiles either, despite the fact that, apparently, they’re now in the same friend group. I think that probably had something to do with the girls though, what with Allison and Lydia being best friends, although at the same time I don’t know, because the Argents left town as soon as school finished, and according to Danny Jackson has spent time with Scott and Stiles since then.”

 

“Third grade…really?”

 

“I’m pretty sure it started earlier than that, but it escalated in third grade,” John admitted, “Apparently Jackson made a comment about Scott’s asthma, and Stiles gave him a blood nose in retaliation, not that it is always like that. Stiles has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, and he honestly has zero brain to mouth filter, so he’ll have a verbal go at Jackson, and then Jackson retaliates physically. Pretty sure that up until the night of the Lacrosse final Jackson was responsible for at least eighty percent of the bruises Stiles got during lacrosse training. I spoke to their coach about it during their freshman year when, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. I was going to pull him from the team, but Stiles begged me not to. It hadn’t been so bad this year…either that, or Stiles just got a lot better at hiding it, which is actually far more likely considering what he’s been like in the last few months.”

 

“”What’s happened in the last few months?” Roy asked, his inner crime fighter sitting up in attention.

 

“You remember that whole thing in the waiting room? I’m fairly certain that was connected. The short story is that Stiles starts showing up at crime scenes, going out late at night in the Jeep, and not coming back until the early hours of the morning, or he texts and says he’s spending the night at Scott’s. Then there was an incident which involved Stiles and Scott kidnapping Jackson for a few hours and keeping him in the prisoner transport van, which, despite what I just said about Jackson and Stiles not getting on, was very out of the ordinary. I’ve tried to get Stiles to talk to me about it, but he closes off and stonewalls me, and I don’t know when he got so good at lying, but I can’t actually tell anymore when he’s lying and when he’s telling the truth. I’ve gotten to the point where I just automatically assume that he’s lying. Maybe…maybe this was a good time for you guys to come into his life…give him someone else to talk to. Maybe it’s because I’m the Sherriff, and he’s scared I’ll arrest him, or I don’t know, but I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 

“Do you have any ideas on what it might be?” Roy asked seriously.

 

John shook his head, “My first thought was drugs, but I’ve never seen any sign of drug use on him, other than his prescribed adderal. I know Derek Hale’s involved, probably is the leader, but I don’t really want to go down to hard on him. The kid’s had a shit life, and he’s the sole reason that Stiles made it to his second birthday at all. He was only seven when he found Stiles out in the woods. He cuddled him to keep him warm and screamed for his parents. Stiles would have died from exposure within a few hours if Derek hadn’t found him.”

 

Roy thought of the silent, brooding man he’d seen in the waiting room, covered in Stiles’ blood from carrying him into the hospital, until Melissa McCall had given him and Scott clean clothes to put on, loaned from some of the other hospital staff. He’d actually reminded Roy a little of himself in his own youth, trying to present a bad boy attitude to the world, but really, deep down, desperate for someone to give him some guidance. Of course, Roy knew that Derek could actually be dangerous, and had already led both of Roy’s sons down the wrong path, but Roy wasn’t about to pass judgment yet.

 

He would wait until he heard the explanation that would come when everyone was ready for that until he made up his mind.


	15. Chapter 15

Scott felt physically sick as he sat in the waiting room, shooting nervous glances at Derek, and at the cluster of people on the opposite side of the room. He had no idea what was going on, or who these people were.

 

OK, he wasn’t completely clueless, despite what Jackson seemed to think. He knew that they were the famous Queen family…he recognized Oliver and Thea, and Oliver’s wife Felicity, from the magazines he’d grown up looking through when he’d had to sit on the floor at the nurse’s station when his mom couldn’t find (or afford) a babysitter. Often the other nurses would give him a magazine to look through to stave off boredom, or Scott himself would go and fetch one from the waiting rooms.

 

What Scott didn’t know was what on earth they were doing there, although now that Scott thought about it, Jackson did look a lot like Roy Harper, Thea Queen’s long term boyfriend. That still didn’t explain why, of all people the Sherriff had taken Roy Harper with him to sit with Stiles. Even if Jackson was somehow connected to the Queen family, then why were they so interested in Stiles?

 

Despite the fact that he’d been shot earlier that night, Jackson was one of the few members of the pack that was still awake. Derek, of course, had stayed awake, accepting a coffee with a nod of thanks when Melissa had handed him one, apologizing for not knowing how he liked his coffee. Lydia, Erica, Isaac and Boyd were all asleep, with Erica and Isaac cuddled into Boyd’s broad chest, as if he were an overgrown teddy bear. Boyd’s head was tipped back, resting against the wall, until Scott’s mother had noticed the angle of his neck, cringed, and then fetched a small pillow from somewhere for him, sliding it into place without the werewolf stirring. Scott knew for a fact that his mother had practiced the same maneuver countless times with both he and Stiles over the years.

 

Jackson was idly playing with Lydia’s hair, although Scott was fairly certain that Jackson was only pretending to be absorbed in the sleek red strands that Stiles had spent hours trying to describe, judging from the odd looks he kept sending towards the group on the other side of the room. Scott frowned as he watched Jackson send another look towards the Queens, before he went back to studiously ignoring them. Jackson seemed to be the only member of the pack who wasn’t curious about why they were there, out of the ones who were still awake anyway.  

 

Scott was more than happy to disregard everything else that was going on in the same room as him, and instead focused on Stiles. Thanks to his werewolf abilities he’d been able to pick out the sound of his best friend’s heart beat, and he was focusing on it, using the sound to anchor himself, to remind himself that, despite how badly injured Stiles had appeared to be when Scott and Derek had found him, Stiles was still alive and seemed to be doing better than he had been. His heart beat seemed much stronger now, and was close to it’s normal rapid rhythm, and when John had taken Scott to visit Stiles in his room the fact that Stiles’ blood pressure was almost back to normal had been obvious, thanks to the things Scott had learned over the years from hanging around the hospital, and also from his work at Deaton’s clinic.

 

Despite the fact that Stiles was obviously doing a little better, the memory of finding him in the woods haunted Scott. In his mind he kept replaying that moment when he entered the clearing, finding Derek trying to get a response out of an unconscious Stiles, to the run back to the Hale house, and the terrifying car journey towards the hospital as he’d cradled Stiles in his arms, the other teen’s blood slowly seeping into Scott’s clothes.

 

Scott’s mother had been in and out of the waiting room all night, since they’d all been first led into the room. She’d stayed with the Sherriff during his first visit to Stiles, gently guiding the man back into the room after the visit was over, but had gone again soon after to check on something, only to come back after half an hour to see how they were all doing.

 

It reminded Scott of Stiles, although he’d never tell his mother that she sometimes reminded him of Stiles. She didn’t handle inactivity well, quickly becoming nervous and fidgety. Yes, she enjoyed peace and quiet, but only when she had something to focus on, like a movie, or a book, or some music, or even just combing her fingers through Scott’s hair when he’d been little.  

 

Whenever she’d been in the room, Scott’s mother had always made a special effort to check on him, giving him an affectionate hug and ruffling his hair, before she pressed a kiss to the top of his head and let him be. It hadn’t done much to quell the anxiety that was bubbling within his chest. The silence in the room was oppressive, weighing everything down, and it made Scott’s inner wolf struggle in the cage he kept it in.

 

Relief washed over him when the door swung open again, expecting his mother to return for another check, only to find not only his mother, but the Sherriff, and Roy Harper as well. Scott was once again amazed by how much like Roy Harper Jackson looked.

 

“How’s Stiles?” Scott asked. His mother walked over to him and sat in the vacant chair in between Scott and Derek.

 

“He’s asleep still, but he’s doing great, Scott,” Melissa reassured him, slinging a gentle arm over his shoulder in a hug, “the doctors are really happy with how he’s going so far.”

 

“Roy?” Thea Queen asked softly from the other side of the room. Scott watched curiously as Roy embraced Thea, the slight trembling of his shoulders giving away the fact that the older man was crying. The Sherriff gave the young pair a sympathetic look as the woman who had arrived at the hospital with the Sherriff and Roy Harper rose to her feet.

 

“Sherriff Stilinski, my father, Captain Lance of the Starling City PD, asked me to pass on my best wishes for Stiles, and also to tell you that he is going to arrive in Beacon Hills in the morning to assist with the investigation.”

 

“Of course,” the Sherriff nodded, bracing himself against a chair, “before he gets here I think we need to be open about what’s going on. No more secrets,” The Sherriff sent a pointed look at Scott, Derek and Jackson at that particular comment. Discretely Scott tapped Isaac’s foot with his own. It was enough to bring the taller werewolf out of his slumber, which woke both Erica and Boyd too. Scott noticed Jackson waking Lydia up gently too, although Scott suspected that Lydia had only been lightly dozing in the first place, because she was alert much quicker than Erica and Boyd, although Isaac, unsurprisingly, given his family history, woke up quickly and was alert in seconds.

 

“Why are they here?” Scott asked curiously, inclining his head towards the group on the opposite side of the room      

 

The Sherriff opened his mouth to reply, but Jackson beat him to it, “They told me that they were my biological parents, before David Whittemore tried to kill me because of how her dad treated his wife, who apparently David Whittemore had a thing for. It’s fucked, and I don’t know why they’re so interested in Stiles, and what the hell they’re doing here after sixteen fucking years.”

 

Scott’s mouth fell open as everyone in the room stared at Jackson. Jackson himself was staring, steely eyed, at the group opposite from the pack. Scott followed Jackson’s line of sight to Thea Queen and Roy Harper, both of them looked like they were fighting back tears.

 

“We tried to find you, Robbie, I swear, we did. We never stopped looking for you and Alex,” Thea Queen began tearfully, “We looked constantly, all over the world. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t find you earlier and stop him from hurting you.”

 

The Sherriff cleared his throat gently, “The thing is, Jackson, that, well, um, I know that you and Stiles don’t have the best of histories…”

 

Scott, Isaac and Erica all snorted loudly at the comment, and even Lydia had made a noise of amusement at it.

 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Jackson admitted through gritted teeth.

 

The Sherriff cringed, “how much do you know about the kidnapping of the Harper-Queen twins in Starling City?”

 

“Enough. I know that the kids were taken from their beds one night, and were never seen or heard from again...”Jackson began, before all color drained from his face and his voice failed him. Scott frowned in concern, as he realized what the Sherriff was leading them towards. Stiles had been found in the woods only a few months after the Whittemores had adopted Jackson. They were about the same age, very little was known about their early infancy, and a quick glance at Thea and Oliver Queen told Scott that, although he looked nothing like Jackson or Roy Harper, Stiles did kind of look like Thea and Oliver…if you thought to look for it.

 

“Oh Fuck no,” Jackson shook his head, “you can’t be serious. This has got to be some asshole’s sick idea of a joke.”

 

Nobody in the room said anything, although Scott could tell Jackson was looking at everyone, desperately searching for some sign that it was indeed someone’s idea for a practical joke. Nobody, however, was laughing, or even smiling.

 

“It hasn’t been confirmed by DNA testing, yet, but it looks almost certain. You and Stiles are brothers, the twin boys that were abducted from Starling City fifteen years ago.” The Sherriff told Jackson, his expression serious, and his tone solemn. Scott recognized the tone as one that the Sherriff used back in the months following Claudia’s death. It made the Sherriff sound old and weary, and just from the Sherriff’s tone Scott who knew the Sherriff well, understood how much it was hurting the Sherriff to say what he was saying, that, after all these years, Stiles’ biological family had been found, and could well take him away.

 

Scott glanced around the room to see how everyone else was taking the news. Boyd, usually very good at masking his emotions and facial expressions, looked openly surprised, and Isaac’s mouth was hanging wide open. Erica’s eyes were narrowed as she looked at Jackson, as if she was trying to see and similarities between him and Stiles. Lydia’s facial expression wasn’t giving anything away, but Scott noticed the way she slid her hand into Jacksons’ and gave a comforting squeeze, while she glanced towards Scott, her eys filled with thinly veiled concern. Derek’s eyebrows were lifted in surprise at the bombshell, and Scott saw the quick glance that the older werewolf sent towards the door…towards Stiles.

 

Jackson, still pale, looked towards Derek, “Shouldn’t you have been able to tell? Shouldn’t you have been able to tell form, I don’t know, supper sniffer sense or something?” he asked, desperation seeping into his voice.

 

Derek sighed heavily, “after fifteen years? People who are related generally smell similar because they are in regular contact with one another, and they share a living space. They use the same soap, laundry detergent, cleaning products, the same shampoo and conditioner. To a certain extent you and Stiles do share smells, but Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and even Lydia share the same scents. It’s the smell of the high school, of the locker room. Stiles smells more like Scott than anyone, because they’re always together. Yes, you probably do smell a little like each other, in your core scent, but it would be impossible for anyone to detect the similarities without knowing to seek them out first,” he explained.

 

“What are you talking about?” Oliver Queen asked in confusion. Scott cringed and glanced at his mother. Melissa squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

 

“Yes, now that we’ve gotten that…discussion…out of the way, I think we need some answers, for one, how you’re still upright, let alone alive,” the Sherriff asked, directing the question at Jackson.

 

Jackson, however, didn’t look as though he was capable of replying, and wouldn’t be any time soon. Derek looked like he too was struggling to come up with an explanation, so Scott took a steadying breath.

 

“It all started back the night you found Stiles in the woods…the night you were all looking for the other half of Laura Hale’s body,” he began.


	16. Chapter 16

Oliver leaned against the sink in front of him wearily, water dripping from his face as he contemplated his thoughts. He still felt ill from hearing about what both of his nephews had become involved in.

 

Initially, it had all sounded like a story, a fabricated cover-up for the truth behind whatever the group of teens (including Derek Hale) had been up to. It had been even less believable than Oliver’s attempts to lie to Felicity before she learned the truth about the identity of the hooded vigilante of Starling City.

 

That had been up until the moment when Scott McCall and Derek Hale had both turned so their backs were to the security cameras and…changed. Oliver didn’t have any other word to describe the way the two ordinary looking male’s eyes had glowed, the way their teeth had changed, the way their eyebrows shifted, and their whole face became more…canine.

 

Suddenly everything became a whole lot more believable, from werewolves to Kanimas, to old family feuds with hunters, and a vengeful boy who had literally used Jackson as his puppet, ordering Jackson to kill those who had wronged him, all those years ago.

 

The memory of the moment that Jackson finally looked up, his eyes shining bright blue, the fingernails on his hands elongating into sharp claws, would forever be entrenched in Oliver’s memory. It had felt like a kick to the stomach, to know what his little nephews had been dragged into, what had happened to them while they’d been in Beacon Hills, separated from their biological family.

 

It was obvious that Oliver wasn’t alone in his shock. Every adult in the room, with the obvious exception of Derek Hale, and, strangely, Melissa McCall, had obviously not known about any of what was going on.

 

Sherriff John Stilinski has called the nurse out on it, obviously noticing her lack of surprise to certain parts of the story. Melissa had nodded guiltily, her eyes apologetic as she looked at the Sherriff.

 

“I’ve only known for a few weeks, ever since that night at the Sherriff’s office. You were unconscious and I saw Scott transformed. I needed to take time to process everything. I tried to get Stiles to tell you, I tried to get Scott to get Stiles to tell you, I told them that you deserved to know. Stiles freaked out at the very thought, he was terrified that you would get involved and get yourself killed, or that you would worry about him so much you would have a heart attack or a stroke. I stopped pushing him after that, I thought he would do it once he was ready. I’m sorry.”

 

The Sherriff had groaned and buried his head in his hands for a moment, before he’d walked over to Melissa and hugged her. Oliver didn’t blame him. The whole time that Scott had been speaking, with gentle interjections from Derek Hale, he had been clutching onto Felicity’s hand tightly, and anybody who wanted to pry Roy and Thea more than an inch apart from one another would have needed a crowbar since the younger couple were gripping one another so tightly.

 

Now, in the quiet of the men’s bathroom, Oliver reflected on the whole conversation, unable to deny how proud he was of his nephews to have survived the last few months. They were only sixteen years old after all, and they’d been through hell. They’d been kidnapped, controlled, threatened, beaten up, had their world literally turned upside down, and yet for the most part, they’d survived. Robbie…Jackson, was a werewolf, and had been a Kanima, while Alex…Stiles, was still human, but didn’t hold back from putting himself in danger to protect his friends.

 

One of the cubicle doors opened, and Oliver looked up, spotting Diggle in the mirror as he approached the sink to wash his hands.

 

“How are you coping?” Oliver asked, his voice dry and gravelly.

 

“I should be asking you the same question,” Diggle replied, “It wasn’t what I expected to hear, that’s for sure.”

 

“I don’t think any of us were expecting to hear that,” Oliver admitted, although he guessed that something in his voice gave how he felt away from the way Diggle was looking at him.

 

“Alright, Oliver, what’s going on in that head of yours,” Diggle frowned.

 

“I’m fine,” Oliver protested.

 

Diggle shook his head, “Come on, Oliver, I’ve been your friend for almost twenty years now, I know something is bothering you.”

 

“All of this only started happening in January this year…if we’d found them before then none of this would have happened, they wouldn’t have been dragged into this. We could have protected them from this.”

 

“Oliver, if we’d known where the boys were six months ago do you think anything would have stopped us from coming sooner,” Diggle pointed out, “It’s not as if we chose to come here now because it wasn’t convenient for us to come earlier or anything. We came to Beacon Hills as soon as we found out that was where the boys might be. Besides, what we got told about tonight… it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Robbie at his house, or the fact that David and Louise Whittemore tortured and were going to kill Alex. I’m actually glad things are how they are here in Beacon Hills. Do you really think Robbie would still be alive if he wasn’t like he is?”

Oliver shuddered and considered Diggle’s point. Jackson probably would have been okay with the two bullet wounds, eventually, assuming he received prompt medical care, if he was still human and not a werewolf, but if he’d still chosen to jump out of the window and escape things were far less certain.

 

Despite the danger that their involvement in the supernatural had put them in, it had come in handy when Jackson had been shot. Now, instead of having to worry about the physical wellbeing of both of the twins, Oliver and the rest of his family, for the moment, could relax as far as Jackson was concerned, and focus on worrying about Stiles. The doctors still weren’t certain on if the teenager had escaped permanent injury, although the last report from the doctors indicated that his kidney function was looking promising.

 

Oliver, however, was more than a little concerned about Jackson’s mental health. It was understandable really, even ignoring Jackson’s recent transition into being a supernatural creature, that the teenager would be a little thrown by everything that he’d been told in the last twelve hours, from meeting his biological parents for the first time, to having his adopted father shoot him twice and then learn that he has a brother and that he and his brother were abducted as some act of revenge over something that happened years before he was born, only to learn that his brother was a boy who he had grown up with, but had, by numerous accounts, disliked (at best). It was no wonder that Jackson was being standoffish and more than a little sullen.

 

What worried Oliver was the future. What was going to happen to Jackson in the coming days and weeks? The best case scenario, in Oliver’s opinion, would involve Jackson going back to Starling city with the rest of his family, but Oliver knew, realistically, that it was unlikely to happen that smoothly.

 

Jackson had shown from his reaction to Roy and Thea that he didn’t trust them, which was understandable, going from what Oliver knew about Jackson’s upbringing, but unlike his brother, the elder of Thea and Roy’s children didn’t have anyone else. The Whittemores were both looking at lengthy prison sentences, and Jackson wasn’t old enough to live on his own. If Jackson refused to move to Starling City (and Oliver was desperately trying not to imagine how Thea and Roy would take that rejection) the only possible option that might work would be if Jackson moved in with Stiles and his dad…and even that wouldn’t be a great option, considering what Oliver had been told about Jackson and Stiles’ relationship over the years.

 

Still, Oliver reasoned with himself, it was a problem for another day. Barring a disaster it was highly unlikely that any of his family or friends would be leaving Beacon Hills until Stiles was out of hospital, and nothing needed to be decided until then.

 

TEEN WOLF/ARROW

 

Watching the first golden rays of the summer sun lighten the sky over Beacon Hills from his vantage point on the roof of the hospital, Jackson let out a sigh and rested his head on his crossed arms.

 

It had been a long night, and so many things had happened. It felt as though so many different bombshells had been dropped on him in the last six or so hours he hadn’t been able to process them all, in between his escape from the house he had grown up in, and his run through the woods to the comparative safety of the Hale house. Now that things had mercifully settled down and gone quiet, Jacksons mind had focused on processing everything that he’d learned, but hadn’t had a chance to think through earlier.

 

More than anything Jackson wished that Danny was there to talk to. Talking to Lydia wasn’t the same as talking to Danny. With Lydia Jackson still felt as though he had to prove himself as being worthy of her affection, despite how much things had changed between them in the last few weeks, while with Danny that pressure wasn’t there. It was just Danny, with his practical thinking, and his good listening skills and sound advice. A glance at his watch, however, told Jackson that it would be at least another hour, or maybe two, before Danny was likely to be awake, and Jackson respected Danny’s hacking abilities far too much to risk annoying his friend by waking him up early during their holidays.

 

Jackson wasn’t alone on the rooftop. The rest of the pack, except for Lydia, who had decided to go for a coffee run, and then was planning on returning to the waiting room, was up there with him, and he could feel their eyes on his back as they blatantly stared at him, as if they would find the meaning of the universe tattooed to his back.

 

The only one not staring at him was Scott, who was looking at the door they’d all used to access the rooftop, as if he could see through it, and through the multiple levels that separated him from his best friend. As much as Jackson had teased Scott and Stiles for how much time they spent together, for how they seemed incapable of having other friends, he’d always inwardly admired their loyalty to one another, and in a way he’d been jealous of how close the pair were.

 

“Are you ok?” Isaac eventually tentatively asked, and Jackson paused, not exactly sure if the other teenager was talking to him or to Scott. When Scott, however, didn’t reply, Jackson realized that Isaac must have been talking to him, and surprise washed over him.

 

Even though they’d grown up living across the road from one another Jackson hadn’t ever had much to do with Isaac, except for lacrosse. Jackson instead had ignored Isaac, and his troubles at home, preferring to focus on himself instead, and since he’d joined the pack things between Jackson and Isaac had been frosty at best. Boyd and Erica weren’t any better, leaving Jackson and outsider of sorts within the pack, although not as much as Peter was.

 

“I’m fine,” Jackson replied eventually, “why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Because Stiles is your brother, and he was tortured tonight by the people who kidnapped you both as babies, who raised you? Because you just found out that you actually are one of the Harper-Queen kids?   That your parents didn’t die in a car crash, and are in fact still alive?” Scott asked, his temper snapping as he turned from the door and faced Jackson, his eyes flashing gold. Jackson’s eyes glowed blue in response as his own anger flared, his wolf coming along with it.

 

“What do you want me to say, McCall? That I wish I was there in that hospital bed in Stilinski’s place, that I hate the Whittemore’s for what they put me through, that I wish none of this ever happened? That I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore, and it’s driving me fucking insane! Guess what, it’s all true. I don’t even know what to think anymore,” Jackson yelled, the rest of the pack silent as he verbally unloaded. Scott’s eyes softened a little, and Jackson realized that Scott had manipulated the outburst out of him, in a move that was classic Stiles.

 

“I’m sorry,” Scott apologized honestly, “I’m sorry that it happened to you, and by that, the whole being kidnapped as a baby thing, not the being related to Stiles thing, because, honestly, I’m kind of jealous about that.”

 

“I’m not,” Isaac snorted, “No offence Scott, but Stiles can be annoying, and sometimes, he’s a bit of a douche. He didn’t deserve what happened to him tonight, nobody does, but he’s not the easiest person to like.”

 

“Try telling that to those girls he invited to Lydia’s party, they seemed pretty fond of him,” Erica grinned, and Isaac laughed, while Scott gave a half smile.

 

Derek, meanwhile approached Jackson, standing beside him when Jackson redirected his attention out on the city.

 

“I hope you know why I brought you up here,” Derek prompted.

 

Jackson nodded, “I needed to vent, and if I wolfed out, this was the safest place for me to do it. You and the others are here to control me and keep me from getting out of hand I case I lost control and shifted.”

 

“I know it’s been a hard night for you, and the pack bonds…I know they’re weak, ok, but, if you want to talk, not just to me, but any of the others, they’ll listen. That’s what being in a pack is about. It’s about being there for each other…like a family.”

 

“Does that mean that, not only am I related to Stilinski, but I’m related to Scott and Isaac as well?’ Jackson glumly asked.

 

Derek paused, looking over his shoulder at the other betas of his pack, “Yes, unfortunately,” he admitted as Erica stole Isaac’s scarf and ran around the rooftop with it wrapped around her head.

 

Jackson huffed quietly in amusement, and then fell silent, gazing out at the city for a few minutes before he spoke again.

 

“I want to tell Danny everything. If Scott can have his best friend as a member of the pack, then I want my best friend to be one too.”

 

Derek studied Jackson’s face for a moment, before he sighed.

 

“Fine, so long as you understand that telling Danny, getting him involved in this, is only going to put him in more danger. Stiles has already had a few close encounters, and they’re the ones I was there for…I don’t know what’s happened to him that he and Scott don’t tell me about.   Think about that before you tell Danny anything.”

 

Jackson didn’t say anything, his mind already spinning at the prospect of yet another thing for him to think about.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Thea approached the bed silently, scared that any noise she could make would disturb the sleeping teenager in front of her, despite knowing that he was currently heavily sedated and was highly unlikely to wake up any time soon.

 

Looking down at the sleeping teenager tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip as she brushed them away with the back of her hand, grateful that she hadn’t bothered to put makeup on. With her free hand she gingerly reached out, brushing it against the closest hand of the sleeping teenager, before she pulled her hand back, clasping it to her chest, as if she’d been burned.

 

Thea’s mind whirled within her brain as it processed what she was seeing, the knowledge that she now possessed…the knowledge that the teenager in front of her was Alex, her little baby boy, who had kicked so much while she was pregnant with him, and who had grown so much since the last time she saw him, the night the boys had been kidnapped. Alex was there in front of her, and Robbie was safe too, getting some fresh air with his friends. They’d grown up in the same town, together, although they’d never known that they were related to one another. In fact, from what Thea had picked up from conversations with others that knew the boys, they actually hated one another.

 

Still, Thea pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on Alex as he slept in front of her. Her heart clenched painfully as she took in the boy’s features, recognizing many of them as being Tommy’s, and to a lesser extent, her own. While, unlike his brother, Alex didn’t look exactly like anyone, Thea could see so much of Tommy in her younger son, and a part of her was glad that at least one of her boys had inherited something from the uncle they would never meet…the brother that Thea hadn’t known she’d had until Tommy was dead and buried.

 

‘He’s a good kid,” a voice said quietly from behind her. Thea didn’t jump, but she did turn and look behind her. She’d know that Sherriff Stilinski had followed her into the room but she’d honestly forgotten about him when she’d laid eyes on her baby boy for the first time in fifteen years.

 

“He doesn’t deserve what he’s had to go through,” the Sherriff continued with a sigh, walking a few steps closer, “loosing Claudia like we did…it was hard on him. I thought a lot about his birth family back then…wondered if his biological mother loved him as much as Claudia had before she got sick. Back then we didn’t know who it was that had abused him as a baby, but when Claudia died I hoped that, maybe, one day, Stiles would get a mom back who loved him. As much as I hoped it would happen, I didn’t really ever expect for things to turn out that way.”

 

“You’ve done a good job raising him,” Thea offered, “I’m sure your wife would be proud of you both.”

 

John nodded, wiping an errant tear from his face. Thea hesitated for a moment, before she reached out her hand and clasped it gently around the Sherriff’s hand.

 

“I’m glad that Ale…Stiles ended up with you. I’m glad that you and your wife love him so much. It…it makes me feel a little better about everything…knowing that at least he spent the last fifteen years in a loving home…unlike his brother.”

 

John pulled a brave smile onto his face as he stepped a little closer to Thea, the pair of them standing side by side as they watched over the sleeping teenager.


	17. Chapter 17

Quentin Lance thanked the uniformed police officer who had picked him up from Sacramento airport and driven him out to Beacon Hills, before he picked up his suitcase and the briefcase that contained the files relating to the abduction of the Harper-Queen twins, and walked up the concrete path towards Beacon Hills memorial hospital.

 

From what he had seen of Beacon Hills Quentin had observed how different it was from Starling City. It seemed so small and quiet, although it was at the same time busy in its own way. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if the paparazzi got wind of what was going on in the small town. The word’s press would descent like a flock of hungry vultures, each of them desperate to get the story before anyone else.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, this was looming as the biggest news story of the year. Lance would be the first to admit that he’d long since given up any hope of ever finding the twins, or even just their bodies. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that a day would come, over fifteen years after the kidnapping, where Laurel would call him and tell him that they had DNA evidence that confirmed (even if it wasn’t unofficially) that both Robbie and Alexander Harper-Queen had been found alive.

 

The majority of the people of Starling City shared Lance’s opinion on the matter, and everyone that Lance has spoken to, even at overseas conferences, had carried no hope of the twins surviving to be found.

 

Of course, it stood to reason that, if it had to happen to anyone, it would be the Queens. Oliver had come back from the dead, and so had Sara. The infamous Queen family’s stubborn refusal to die had obviously been passed onto both of the twins, and now Quentin would be collaborating with the Beacon Hills and Sacramento police that had been involved in the case, and had apprehended those responsible.

 

Lance walked into the hospital, relieved to see Laurel standing near the admissions desk. He walked over to her.

 

“Hey Dad,” Laurel greeted, hugging Lance tightly. Lance knew, just from that gesture, that although the twins had been found, things were far from perfect.

 

“How are things?” Lance asked, maintaining his professional façade as Laurel led him out of the main reception area of the hospital. Laurel looked around cautiously before replying.

 

“It’s pretty bad. When Robbie escaped the Whittemores house in the confusion they went after Alex. The abducted him from the front lawn of his home and took him to David Whittemore’s office, where they tortured him.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“The doctors say his wounds will heal, but he cut up his wrists a fair bit when he was trying to escape, and then he ran for it, so blood loss and shock were a concern. They’re optimistic that he’s escaped any permanent injury, but they won’t know until he regains consciousness, something that will be a couple of days away because they want to give his other wounds a chance to heal without him moving around to open things up. Roy and Thea are pretty shaken up about the whole thing.”

  
“Who is in charge of the case?”

 

“I’m not really sure,” Laurel confessed. “When we first contact the police at the Whittemore’s the Sherriff came out and spoke to us all and was in charge of everything…but he is also Alex’s adopted dad, so there’s conflict of interest, and he’s focused on Alex. With Beacon Hills Sherriff’s department so understaffed I’m not sure who has taken command.”

 

“How’s Robbie?” Quentin asked curiously, “he coping?’

 

“In a manner of speaking. The thing with Robbie, and this is just from what I’ve observed, is that he’s a lot like Roy.”

 

“I saw the pictures Felicity found, Laurel, I already knew that he was a spitting image for his dad.”

 

“No, not like that,” Laurel shook her head, “I mean…do you remember what Roy used to be like before the Quake, when he’d get arrested over something.”

 

Lance nodded, although he had only met Roy on a couple of occasions before the kid had turned his life around for the better.

 

“He hated the world and everyone in it,” he summarized.

 

Laurel sighed, “Well, times that by about four and you get a pretty good taste of what Robbie is like. I mean, obviously, he’s under a lot of stress, but none of his friends seemed overly surprised by how he reacted when Roy and Thea told him that he and Alex were actually brothers. We know that they don’t get on…at all, but he didn’t take it all that well.”

 

“You and Sara resolved your differences though, and hell, you were both infatuated with the same guy, they should be able to get over their differences too…maybe.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Laurel shrugged, “I spoke to a couple of their friends, just quietly. Apparently Alex has been in love with Jackson’s on and off girlfriend since about the third grade.”

 

“I’m getting too old for this crap,” Lance sighed.

 

“Oh, you haven’t heard the worst part yet,” Laurel reported, and lance groaned.

 

“It gets worse?”

 

“I’ll tell you in the waiting room, where no-one can overhear.”

 

“Please tell me that neither of the twins has reproduced. I’m not ready for another generation of Queen brats just yet.”

 

“No, neither of them have reproduced…that I know of. I think Roy and Thea would both have heart attacks if they found out that they were grandparents. They’re not even 40 years old yet.”

 

“At least you have some appreciation now about why I didn’t like you and Sara spending time with boys such as Oliver,” Lance grumbled.

 

Laurel opened a door and led Lance into a waiting room. John Diggle was there, along with four teenagers, all of whom had deep, dark shadows beneath their eyes.

 

“Dad, this is Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, Robbie and Alex’s friends. Guys, this is my dad, Quentin Lance who is a Captain of the Starling City P.D. He was the one in charge of the investigation when Jackson and Stiles initially were abducted,” she introduced, closing the door behind her father, “also, coincidently, they’re all werewolves, as is Jackson, aka, Robbie Harper-Queen.”

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

John Diggle watched a vein pulsing close to Quentin Lance’s hairline. Initially he’d been amused by the shock on the older man’s face in reaction to the bombshell, but then he’d realized the bluntness of the way that Laurel had delivered the news, and it suddenly because a lot less funny. Not when his own daughter was getting closer and closer to finishing High School and moving out and being independent.    

 

A time might come when a bombshell might be dropped on Diggle’s own head, and he didn’t even want to imagine what his reaction to the bombshell (whatever it might be) would be.

 

Still, Lance seemed to be struggling with processing what he’d just been told, judging from the shocked look in his face. Laurel didn’t seem overly concerned, standing patiently beside Lance, her hands clasped in front of her.

 

“Er, I think you broke him,” Scott McCall observed, studying the look on Lance’s face. Erica snorted.

 

“I barely know the guy, but I kind of wish I had a camera right now,” Isaac commented.

 

Erica nodded, “Even if it was only so we could show Stiles when he wakes up.”

 

“Werewolves, huh?” Lance echoed, turning to face Diggle, “you’re a practical guy…this isn’t some hoax is it?”

 

Diggle shook his head, “no, I afraid it’s not”

 

“Damn,” Lance sighed, walking over to Diggle and slumping into a seat, Laurel sitting on his other side.

 

“Here,” Scott offered helpfully, before he quickly shifted, where he sat, in the chair, into his werewolf form. Lance stiffened slightly in his seat.

 

“And…One of the twins does that too? Is it genetic?”

 

“Yeah, Jackson can do it,” Isaac nodded, “and in some cases it is genetic. All of us except for Derek, though, were bitten. We were all normal before being bitten.”

 

Diggle knew that normal was hardly the best way to describe the twins and their group of friends. Felicity had done some investigating in her own unique manner while they’d been sitting in the waiting room. Inaction hadn’t ever been Felicity’s strong point. Even before they’d been thrown into the supernatural world their lives had been far from what Diggle would consider to be normal, from what Felicity had found just from accessing their school records, police records, and their Facebook profiles. Lydia’s IQ rivaled even Felicity’s, Isaac’s brother had been in the military had had been killed in action, his mother had committed suicide shortly afterwards, and his father had become abusive towards Isaac, and Erica had lived with Epilepsy for her entire life. Diggle had even watched a muted video of one of Erica’s more public seizures, filled by a classmate on a phone, and then ruthlessly posted on the internet for the rest of the world to see.

 

The girl in the video seemed to be a completely different person than the young woman sitting on the other side of Diggle now. This girl just seemed to ooze confidence, apparently fearless. The only potential chip in her cool, calm facade that Diggle could spot, was the hint of concern in her eyes, and the way she kept glancing at the door. It was nothing major, and Diggle attributed the tell to Erica Reyes simply being a teenaged girl being worried about her badly injured friend.

 

Still, concern for Thea and Roy’s son aside, the girl in the room with him was a far cry from the girl featured in the video. He didn’t know what the negative impacts of being a werewolf were, but it seemed to have done the girl a lot of good.

 

“Speaking of the Queen family as a whole, where are they?” Quentin eventually asked after a lengthy silence.

 

“Oliver went on a coffee run with Felicity and Roy and Thea ducked out about ten minutes before you got here, I think they were going to see if they could visit Alex.” Laurel offered gently, “I don’t know where Robbie is,”

 

“Lydia will keep an eye on him, Derek too,” Isaac offered lightly with a slight shrug.

 

“Aren’t your parents wondering where you all are?” Quentin asked the teenagers with a raised eyebrow. In unison Erica, Boyd and Isaac gave non committal shrugs.

 

“My parents think I’m sleeping over at Lydia’s,” Erica explained.

 

“My parents think I’m at Isaac’s,” Boyd added.

 

“I live with Derek, so I’m fine.” Isaac contributed.

 

“My mom knows where I am; she works here at the hospital.” Scott finished.

 

“And do any of your parents know about the…werewolf…thing?”

 

“Nope,” Boyd and Erica shook their heads, while Scott nodded, looking oddly defeated about that fact, while Isaac gave no response. Diggle had asked earlier about the teenager’s parents, offering to give them a ride back home. They all declined, but Diggle had learned that, apparently Isaac’s highly abusive father had only recently died, about the same time that Isaac had become a werewolf (although it had been pointed out that the two events were not related), and he and Derek were living in the loft apartment of a building that Derek had recently bought.

 

Lance huffed and slumped a little in his seat, until the door opened and John Stilinski walked into the room, looking like he’d aged ten years in only the last few hours. The Sherriff crossed the room and slumped into the vacant seat beside Scott, rubbing a weary hand over his face, before he glanced across at Scott and gave a weak attempt at a smile.

 

“Dad, this is Sherriff John Stilinski, Alex’s adopted Dad,” Laurel introduced. Lance rose to his feet as Sherriff Stilinski looked a little surprised, obviously having not noticed the other man in the room.

 

“Captain Quentin Lance, Starling City PD,” Lance introduced as Sherriff Stilinski got to his feet and they shook hands.

 

“Sorry, Captain…it’s been a long…year if I’m honest.”

 

“I can understand, I’ve had quite a few of those myself. I hope you don’t mind me coming down. This case…it’s been a thorn in my side for fifteen years.”

 

“Of course,” John nodded, “When…when Stiles got brought into the hospital last night I stepped back in my involvement in the case, but I would still like to be helpful. After what they did to my kid I want to see them locked up and the keys thrown away.”

 

“I’d be grateful for any assistance you could provide. Tell me…how is Stiles going?”

 

“He…his vitals are back to normal and unless he deteriorates again he shouldn’t need another blood transfusion. They’re going to take him for scans in a few hours to see if there are any signs of anything…permanent,” the Sherriff choked a little on the word, his already red eyes filling with unshed tears, before he cleared his throat, “They won’t know for certain until he wakes up, and they’re still going to keep him under for at least a few days to let him heal.”

 

“I’m sorry he had to go through that, and that we didn’t track down the Whittemores before they could hurt your son. In my entire career there have been a lot of things I’ve regretted, but the fact that we weren’t able to find the boys, until now, would be one of the things I regret the most. Has there been any media interest yet?”

 

“Not yet,” Stilinski shook his head, “How bad do you think it is going to get if the story gets out?”

 

“It’s the Queen family,” Lance shrugged, “Who knows how far it will go.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Did you ever suspect that the supernatural was real? Had you heard anything indicating that all of this was real?” Felicity asked Oliver as they walked side by side around a little courtyard garden they’d found within the hospital complex. It was still early, and the garden was deserted except for them. Despite that, Felicity was careful to keep her voice hushed, to prevent anyone from listening in on the conversation she was having with her husband.

 

Oliver sighed, “Only rumors, stories that I was told when I was with the Bratva. Sara and Nyssa probably know more about it than I do, a lot of the stories mentioned the fact that the League had gone through dealings with the supernatural in the past. I never knew if the stories were true or not…given everything else we’ve had to face it’s not the strangest thing we’ve had to deal with, but at the same time I kind of doubted it. Werewolves were something out of a b grade horror movie, not …this.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Felicity admitted, “It seems like they’ve been through so much already, even ignoring all of the stuff the Whittemores did to them. You heard what Alex’s friend said…about Robbie being a Kanima and being controlled by two psychopaths.”

 

“They’re still alive,” Oliver eventually spoke, his tone heavy, “for such a long time we didn't know if they were alive or not. For all we knew they could have been killed the night they were taken. I never really thought about what sort of danger they might be exposed to other than their kidnappers.” The pair stopped walking and Felicity rested her hand reassuringly on Oliver’s shoulder as she stepped in front of him, gazing up at his haunted face.

 

“You’re right, they are still alive,” she reminded Oliver, “despite everything that has been thrown at them…the abduction, being beaten and left in the woods to die, being brought up with no parental affection, all of this supernatural crap, they’ve survived it all. They’re strong, Oliver, they’re fighters. Alex will heal and get better, and Robbie will…eventually learn what it means to belong to a family, and we’ll learn about their lives, and how we can help, Roy, Thea, you, Dig, Laurel, Sara, Lyla, me…all of us.”

 

Oliver couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face, and he lowered his head to brush his lips against Felicity’s.

 

“How do you always know what to say?”

 

“It’s my superpower,” Felicity shrugged with a smile, before she kissed Oliver back, wrapping her arms around the back of Oliver’s neck, anchoring him to her reassuringly as he wrapped his arms around her back, embracing her.

 

A couple of days had passed now since their arrival in Beacon Hills, and everyone had had a bit of time to get used to the bombshells that had been dropped that first night in the waiting room of the hospital, as they’d waited for any updates about Alex’s condition.

 

The official DNA results had come back the previous afternoon, confirming that Jackson Whittemore and Stiles Stilinski were in fact Roy and Thea’s children. Felicity wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had cried. She hadn’t been the only one. Oliver, Thea and Roy had too, although Oliver had waited until they were in the privacy of their hotel room until he’d lost control of his emotions and cried in relief at knowing that, after 15 years, the twins had finally been found.

 

Despite the fact they had been found, Felicity knew that things weren’t yet completely resolved. Alex…Stiles…had yet to regain consciousness, although admittedly his doctors weren’t yet concerned by that quite yet. The teenager’s body appeared to be healing nicely following his torture at the hands of the Whittemores, so Felicity was forcing herself to remain positive for Oliver, Roy and Thea’s sake.

 

As for Robbie…or Jackson, as he was known these days, Felicity was privately uncertain of how things would pan out. Ever since the night that the revelations had been made the teen had avoided the group from Starling City as much as possible, staying away from the hospital altogether. From the snippets of conversation she’d overheard from the other teenagers, who didn’t seem to share Jackson’s desire to keep away, Jackson was taking it badly, and it was probably a good thing for everyone that he was staying away from the general population of Beacon Hills, due to the way that newly turned werewolves found controlling their tempers…and their teeth and claws, extremely difficult

 

Felicity hadn’t believed them, up until she’d managed to corner Derek Hale one day in the corridor outside Stiles’ hospital room while Oliver was visiting his nephew, and had manipulated him into giving her more information. Felicity had felt guilty about it afterwards, especially when she hacked into the file about the murder of Derek’s family when the younger man was the same age as the twins were now. Over the years Felicity had gotten very good at reading people, and from the reports, and the way Derek Hale acted, she was certain that Derek blamed himself for what happened, and she also suspected that the woman who only recently been found responsible, Kate Argent, had used Derek in some way, taking advantage of her own sexual appeal and the fact that Derek was a teenaged boy already grieving the sudden death of a girl he was supposedly close to, according to the report on her death...

 

Yes, she’d hacked into quite a few of the Beacon Hills P.D. files, but it was only to try and help her understand the implications of the sort of world her nephews had been thrown into. She knew more now, but there were still far too many unanswered questions for her liking.

 

A/TW

 

Danny watched from the doorway of the spare bedroom, watching Jackson as the other teenager sat on the floor in silence, gazing broodingly out of the window.

 

A couple of days had passed since Jackson had told him everything. Some of it hadn’t been news to Danny. He’d overheard Stiles and Scott talking about werewolves in class (the pair had yet to grasp the concept of whispering), and given the change in Jackson’s behavior since the night Lydia had been attacked Danny had long suspected that Jackson had gotten involved, but he’d never imagined the scale of what was really going on in Beacon Hills.

 

The revelation about Jackson’s real identity, and of his connection to Stiles Stilinski, however, had been surprising. Danny would never have guessed that they were brothers…twins, although, in hindsight, he knew he really should have noticed how Jackson looked so much like Roy Harper.

 

Still, as much of a surprise as it had been for Danny, it was nothing compared to how Jackson was taking it. Danny had never seen his best friend so visibly shaken. Honestly, though, Danny couldn’t blame Jackson for being a little shaky at the moment. With everything that had happened to him in the last few months anyone in Jackson’s position would be struggling to deal with everything. Realistically, Danny thought that Jackson was doing rather well, all things considered.

 

“Hey, you want something to eat?” he offered, We’ve got some of last night’s dinner in the fridge that I can heat up, or I can make some grilled cheese.”

 

“I’m fine,” Jackson murmured in reply, still gazing absently out of the window. Danny crossed the threshold into the room and approached Jackson, sitting on the floor beside him, although in his mind he was remembering Derek Hale’s warnings about how volatile Jackson might be. Danny was used to Jackson being volatile, and he knew that it would probably be worse now that Jackson was a werewolf, but he didn’t hesitate before he rested his hand gently on Jackson’s shoulder.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

In response Jackson simply shrugged his shoulders, “not like talking about it is going to change anything,” he grumbled, “it’s not going to make it so that they never took me from my real family, the ones that actually cared about me.”

 

“It might make you feel better. Come on; tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,”

 

“You sound like Stiles,” Jackson frowned, turning his face to look at Danny, his eyebrow raised. Danny couldn’t help but smile.

 

“And you look like Derek when you do that,”

       

Immediately Jackson’s eyebrow dropped back to normal, “Not even funny, Danny,” he shook his head.

 

“Have you heard how Stiles is going?” Danny asked, watching Jackson for any reaction to the other teenager’s name.

 

Danny was rewarded with a slight clenching of Jackson’s fist, a stiffening of his jaw, and the way that Jackson ducked his gaze away from Danny.

 

“Scott’s mom said that he should wake up at some point tomorrow. They think, at the moment, that he’s going to be ok.”

 

“When were you talking to Scott’s mom?”

 

“I…I visited the hospital, just for a bit, last night. I didn’t see…him…or anyone else, but Scott’s mom saw me in the corridor.”

 

“You know…nobody is going to think less of you for, you know, actually caring about Stiles,” Danny pointed out gently, “It’s only going to be a matter of time until they release an announcement to the press about how you and Stiles have been found. It’s a minor miracle that they’ve managed to keep it quiet for this long. Everyone is going to know that the two of you are brothers. If you keep convincing people that you hate him they’ll just think you’re a dick…even more of a dick than they think you are now”

 

Jackson nodded and sighed, and Danny knew that Jackson understood where he was coming from.

 

“Have you decided when you’re going to see your parents…biological parents I mean?’ Danny asked, deciding to drop the topic of Stiles for the moment. He didn’t want to push Jackson too much after all.

 

Jackson snorted, “I don’t know, the way I reacted to them when they told me…they probably don’t really want to have anything to do with me. Why would they? I’m not exactly the kind of kid anyone sane would be proud of.”

 

It took all Danny had to refrain from picking up a book and hitting Jackson over the head with it. As it was he reached out and smacked the back of Jackson’s head with his palm.

 

“What the hell was that for?” Jackson snapped, his eyes flashing blue as he whirled to face Danny with superhuman speed. Danny didn’t move, but was very relieved to find that Jackson’s teeth and fingernails still looked normal.

 

“Dude…You’re one of the Harper-Queen twins. Everyone knows how much your parents have put into trying to find you and Stiles. How you reacted when you found out isn’t going to impact on how they feel about you. Give them a little more credit than that.”    

 

“I know,” Jackson sighed heavily, “And I want to like them…seriously, I do, but…”

 

“But you’re not ready yet,” Danny finished for his best friend wisely, “You haven’t come to terms with it, and you’re not ready to face them. I understand, dude, I really, do, and I know kind of being a jerk is your default reaction to things, but honestly, I think you need to tone it down a bit.”

 

Jacks gave a self depreciating snort, “Yeah, you might be right,” he agreed.

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Thea, Roy, John, Scott, Melissa and Derek sat in the waiting room that they had effectively taken over since the night that Stiles had first been admitted. Sitting on the other side of the room from them were Erica and Boy, both of them studying the floor sheepishly, refusing to meet the gaze of any of the adults, especially Derek.

 

“What do you mean you know where those pre-existing injuries Stiles had came from?” Melissa asked gently.

 

“Did…did you two hurt him...loose control?” Derek questioned, although Roy noticed that the Alpha werewolf was careful with his tone of voice.

 

Erica rapidly shook her head, “no…it wasn’t us. We wouldn’t hurt Stiles…not that bad.”

 

“You hit him over the head with a bit of his car and chucked him in a dumpster,” Scott observed with a snort.

 

“Ok, yes…I did do that…but come on, are you seriously saying that you didn’t try and kill him when you were first learning to control yourself after the bite.”

 

Scott snapped his mouth shut and ducked his gaze, while the Sherriff and Melissa exchanged concerned looks.

 

“Can we get back on topic?’ Prompted Derek with a glare and Erica nodded, Boyd sliding his hand over hers and squeezing gently…reassuringly.

 

“The night of the Lacrosse final Boyd and I were on our way out of town. We…didn’t like the way Derek was being an Alpha so we were going looking to join another pack,” Erica told the assembled group.

 

“Except we were…taken.” Boy added.

 

“By who?” the Sherriff asked, slipping more and more into his professional mindset with every passing moment, although he still was struggling to find Stiles’ place within the story,

 

“Gerard and Allison Argent,” Boyd offered simply. Melissa sucked in a sharp breath, and the Sheriff frowned.

 

“The School principal and Scott’s girlfriend?”

 

Erica nodded, “They…captured us and took us to the basement of the Argent’s house. Both of us were unconscious, but when we woke up we were tied up with electrified wires. Allison was gone, we don’t know where she went though, but Gerard was there, with a few of his guys. They were laughing as if it was all some big joke. If we moved or struggled the voltage increased.”

 

“Gerard asked us questions…about who else was in the pack, and about the best way to get to Derek…we didn’t say anything though,” Boyd offered when Erica stopped talking, “He must have realized that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with us, so…so he went to find another source of information.”   

 

“Stiles,” Roy offered. Boyd simply nodded, and a sick feeling began to churn the Sherriff’s gut.

  

“About an hour later Gerard and his guys come back. They threw Stiles down the stairs into the basement with us. He tried to get us loose, but Gerard caught him. Then he…” Erica snapped her mouth shut and shook her head.

 

“He beat up Stiles pretty bad, asking his all the same questions as he asked us. He kept threatening to up the voltage on us, but Stiles kept getting up, mouthing off so Gerard would focus on him instead of us. Stiles didn’t give away any information…not on the pack anyway.”

 

“What information did he give?” Derek asked. Boyd hesitated.

 

“Well…he did give a pretty detailed speech about the history of circumcision that had a few of Gerard’s men look like they were about to burst into tears,” Erica offered, “But nothing related to the pack, or the supernatural, only that Scott would find him…would sniff him out.”

 

“Gerard just laughed and told Stiles that the only reason he’d been targeted was to send a message to Scott and Derek. Stiles passed out not too long after that, Gerard beat him up a bit more before a couple of his guys dragged Stiles out. Stiles told us that they dumped him near where he’d parked his car. He was going to stay away from the pack until he’d healed up a bit…so you guys wouldn’t know that he’d been taken, but then…”

 

“Lydia went to him about Jackson and he came anyway.” Scott finished.

 

“How did you two get out of the basement?” the Sherriff asked, trying not to think about how Stiles had been beaten to unconsciousness by his school principal.

 

“Chris Argent found us and let us out and told us to get back to Derek where we’d be safe. We didn’t look back.”    

 

“The next time we saw Stiles on his own he told us not to tell anyone about what happened to him in the Argent’s basement. He told us to go along with his cover story…which was pretty weak for him. His cover stories are usually better.”

 

“Especially when I already knew that the entire losing team were accounted for at their team dinner at Rosie’s Diner,” the Sherriff added, everyone looking to him in varying degrees of surprise.

 

“What? My kid got beaten up. Even though he asked me not to do anything do you really think that I would do nothing? To be honest I actually suspected you,” the Sherriff admitted, looking at Derek, who simply shrugged in acceptance.

“So…where is this Argent bastard now?” Thea growled, “The Whittemores are locked up, why isn’t this asshole?”

 

Scott and Derek glanced at each other, “We don’t know where he is, chances are he’s dead already, but I haven’t seen a body,” Derek admitted

 

“Wait, this is the same guy who controlled Jackson the last week he was the Kanima thing, among various other things?”

 

“Same guy,” Scott nodded in agreement.

 

“Remind me to tell my deputies that one of the cells at the station now has Gerard Argent’s name written on it,” the Sherriff told Melissa with gritted teeth, “that bastard hurt Stiles, and tried to kill Jackson, as well as who knows what other things that you guys aren’t telling me.”

 

“Oh, that better be all the secrets you’re hiding,” Melissa said sternly, addressing the comment at Boyd and Erica, who nodded, looking shamefaced. Derek sighed and rose to his feet, crossing over to his pack mates and squeezing their shoulders gently.

 

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell anyone sooner. We didn’t want Stiles mad at us,” Erica apologized sheepishly.

 

“It’s okay. It looks like Stiles mostly healed on his own. I’ll be having words with him when this is over about concealing injuries. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve given him that particular lecture,” Melissa told them, softening her tone a little. The two younger werewolves were already traumatized and on edge. She didn’t want to make everything worse.  


	19. Chapter 19

The first time Stiles managed to muster the energy to open his eyes it took him a few moments to focus on the room around him. His dad was sitting in the chair beside his bed, holding Stiles’ hand and watching Stiles’ face anxiously, his eyes filled with concern.

 

“Dad?’ Stiles croaked out, his throat dry, and his voice choked. The Sherriff smiled and ran his fingers through Stiles’ short hair.

 

“Hey, buddy,” he greeted, “you’re ok. Here,” the Sherriff gently put a couple of pieces of Ice in Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles sucked on them, almost moaning in relief as moisture trickled down his throat.

 

Once the ice was gone Stiles tried speaking again, “How…how long have I been out for?”

 

“A couple of days,” The Sherriff replied, “you were in a pretty bad way when Scott and Derek found you and brought you here. How much do you remember of what happened?”

 

Stiles frowned…”The Whittemores...at the office, and then I escaped and you weren’t at your office, so I tried to escape in the woods. I thought they wouldn’t find me there…is Jackson okay?”

 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” The Sherriff nodded as Melissa, accompanied by a doctor and some other nurses, walked into the room. Stiles was mostly quiet as the doctor checked him over, giving short, one word answers to the questions he was being asked.

Eventually, the doctor left, taking everyone except for Melissa and the Sherriff with him. Stiles blinked heavily up at his dad and Melissa, who tenderly ran his fingers through is hair, fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

 

“Hey, you can go to sleep if you want, buddy, nobody’s going to hurt you here. The Whittemores are locked up in Sacramento, they’ll be there for a very long time, they won’t hurt you ever again,’ The Sherriff told him reassuringly, “You just concentrate on getting better, ok bud?”

 

Stiles was too tired to respond, his eyes drifting shut of their own accord, the urge to sleep too strong for him to resist.

 

TW/ARROW

 

The next time he regained consciousness his dad was there, slumped in his seat and snoring softly, his neck at an angle that made Stiles wince sympathetically. Scott was there too, his brown eyes looking tired, although he was obviously excited about Stiles being awake.

 

“Dude, everyone has been so worried about you,” Scott whispered, “how are you feeling?’

 

“Like I got hit by a truck…or, at least how I imagine getting hit by a truck feels. Wolf healing would be nice right about now.”

 

Scott cringed apologetically and reached out, placing his hand on Stiles’ arm. Immediately the veins in Scott’s arm turned back as Scott pulled Stiles’ pain. It felt so good that Stiles moaned out loud. A quick glance at his dad, however, told him that the Sherriff hadn’t been woken up by the noise.

 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered, “what have I missed?”

 

Scott bit his lip uncertainly, and dread washed over Stiles, anxiety gripping his chest tightly, “What? What happened? Is everyone ok?” Who got hurt?” he hissed out as his heart began pounding in his chest.

 

“Nobody got hurt other than you,” Scott quickly told Stiles, shooting a nervous glance at the heart monitor Stiles was attached to, although Stiles knew that Scott knew perfectly well how quickly his heart was beating without the machine’s irritating beeping.

 

“Well, what happened then?” Stiles asked, relieved, at least, to know that no-one else had been injured.

“Your…er, your dad…he knows about…about what we’ve been doing, you know…”

 

“The…the grr on a full moon thing?” Stiles asked faintly.

 

Scott nodded, “I’m so sorry, Stiles, I know that you didn’t want him to know about it…to get involved…but…but I couldn’t think of a way around it.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes, wishing his arms weren’t so damn heavy so he could rub his hand over his face, or comb his fingers through his hair, “how did he take it?” he asked finally.

 

“He didn’t believe us at first, up until we shifted in front of him. My mom was there…that kind of helped.”

 

“Us? Who else was there?”

 

“Everyone. Derek, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, Jackson and Lydia. Jackson told Danny too, so he knows now as well.”

 

Sighing, Stiles wondered how this development was going to change anything. Combined with what had happened with the Whittemores, learning that Stiles had been involved with werewolves and the supernatural world in general for the last six months or so could well be enough to trigger a heart attack in his dad…or make the man so protective of him that he would be lucky if his dad let him go out of sight when he was thirty.

 

Scott opened his mouth to say something else, but snapped his mouth shut when the Sherriff stirred, opening his eyes, and looking sleepily at Stiles, becoming instantly more awake when he saw Stiles’ eyes were open.

 

“Hey,” the Sherriff greeted with a smile, “how are you feeling?”

 

“Sore, tired, all ‘round achy,” Stiles admitted, not even bothering to lie to his dad. He knew that he was too tired and drugged up to be very convincing. Besides, his dad had known him for far too long to be convinced by any of Stiles’ lies, something that, of late, Stiles had been painfully aware of.

 

“Yeah, they’ve toned down your pain meds; the ones you were on were a bit too strong. I’ll ask Melissa to see if there’s anything they can give you for the pain that won’t make you feel so tired.” The Sherriff promised, running his fingers through Stiles hair before he rose to his feet and left the room.

 

“What were you going to say?” Stiles asked once his dad was out of earshot. Scott, however, shook his head.

 

“It probably should be your dad that tells you,” Scott admitted.

 

“Is this about Jackson…Jackson and I and how we’re the Harper Queen twins?’ Stiles asked.

 

Scott looked so surprised that, had the situation been less serious, Stiles would have been rolling on the ground laughing at his best friend’s facial expression.

 

“How? How did you know?” Scott asked. Stiles shrugged, wincing as the movement made his back hurt.

 

“The Whittemore’s told me. It’s true then?”

 

Scott nodded, “the DNA tests came back yesterday, although everyone had already sort of accepted it.”

 

“Even Jackson?” Stiles asked, fighting the urge to yawn, his weariness catching up with him yet again.

 

“Well…maybe not Jackson…I haven’t seen much of him lately. Derek’s keeping a close eye on him though. I’ve been staying around here, as much as my mom lets me. Jackson’s been either stalking around in the woods punching trees…or Isaac, or he’s been with Danny, which has sort of helped him keep a lid on things.”

 

“And…and the Harper-Queens?”

“They’ve pretty much stayed at the hospital or at their hotel the whole time you’ve been here. My mom and your dad told them when you started showing signs of waking up that you needed to just see familiar faces until you were stronger. They were really understanding about it all. I think your mom…I mean, Thea Queen, is looking forward to meeting you though.”  

 

Stiles wanted to reply, but he couldn’t hold back his yawn anymore, and once he let it out his eyelids grew heavy, and he quickly fell back asleep, reassured by the gentle weight of Scott’s hand on his arm.

 

TW/ARROW

 

Waking up for the third time was a lot different from the first two times. Stiles didn’t have to struggle against his heavy eyelids to pen his eyes, and his mind was clear of the fuzz that was caused by strong painkillers.

 

His dad was sitting at his bedside, and concern washed over Stiles.

 

“When was the last time you went home?” Stiles asked. The Sherriff jumped, obviously startled by the sound of Stiles’ voice, but he quickly relaxed, rubbing his hand over his face, although Stiles couldn’t help but notice the shadows beneath his dad’s eyes.

 

“I’ve been home,” the Sherriff defended, “Melissa’s been looking after me, you don’t have to worry. Besides, I’m the parent and you’re the kid. I’m the one who is supposed to worry about you, especially when you’re in hospital after nearly bleeding out,” he added pointedly.

 

“I…I can’t help it dad. You’re all I’ve got.”

 

“That…that’s not necessarily true, Stiles.” The Sherriff told him with a frown, reaching out and taking Stiles’ hand in his own, “We…we know who your biological parents are.”

 

“I know too. The Whittemore’s told me,” Stiles said quickly, trying to save his dad the trouble of going over the whole thing, “I’m one of the Harper-Queen kids, and so is Jackson.”

 

“Oh…ok,” the Sherriff replied shortly, silence falling between them, Stiles for once not really knowing what to say.

 

“How are you going with that?” The Sherriff eventually asked.

 

Stiles shrugged, relieved to find it didn’t hurt his back too much, and picked at a stray thread of the blanket covering him.

 

“It kind of hasn’t really sunk in,” he admitted honestly, “Everything…everything’s going to change, isn’t it?”

 

“Stiles,” the Sherriff sighed, leaning a little closer to Stiles, cupping Stiles’ face gently with his hands, “None of this…Not a single part of this, changes how much I love you, ok? None of it. You’re still my kid, you hear me?”

 

Stiles felt his chest tighten, and tears gathering in his eyes, before he sobbed, the Sherriff gathering him in his arms and holding him, mindful of Stiles’ injuries. Stiles put his arms around his father’s back, fingers gripping the shirt his dad was wearing tightly as he clung onto his dad.

 

“I love you dad,” Stiles mumbled into his father’s shoulder. The Sherriff pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead in reply.

 

“I love you too kiddo. Now…I just have a few questions for you.”

 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, recognizing his father’s ‘police officer’ voice immediately.

 

“When exactly where you planning on telling me that you ran around with werewolves most nights?”

 

ARROW/TEEN WOLF

 

Sitting in the corridor of a hospital had become something that Roy had become accustomed to over the years, thanks to the dangerous lifestyle he and his family engaged in, but this time it was different.

 

This time it was Alex…Stiles lying in the hospital bed, connected to monitors, looking frighteningly pale and still as he recovered from his ordeal. Enough time had passed to reassure doctors that, barring an unforeseen complication, the teenager would make a full recovery, and the doctor who had examined Stiles after he’d woken up the first time had been optimistic, pleased with how lucid Stiles, was, although they had lowered the dosage of painkillers he was receiving in order to better monitor Stiles’ cognitive functioning.

 

For the moment Roy was alone. Thea was having a bathroom break, Oliver and Felicity were catching up on some sleep, having spent just as much time at the hospital as Roy and Thea had, while Diggle and Laurel had accompanied Quentin to Sacramento to do some official business regarding the case against the Whittemores. With every day that had passed ore evidence was unearthed on the Whittemores, their guilt obvious now.

 

It now was evident that the Whittemore’s had hired the men who had carried out the initial kidnapping and who had also been tasked with the job of holding Stiles hostage as an added precaution. Once David Whittemore had been confident that his ruse had worked, he’d given the order to the men to kill Stiles. The men, however, had been either unwilling to actually kill the baby, or simply had been too lazy to do it themselves, and had simply left him in the woods.

 

They had, however paid for not following through with David Whittemore’s orders. Deep down Roy had felt a hint of satisfaction when he’d been told about the suspicious credit card payments made by David Whittemore at the time of the attempted murder of Stiles Stilinski, all centering around a small town in Nevada. It hadn’t taken much digging (no pun intended) for the badly decomposed remains of two men were uncovered out in the desert, their bones gnawed and stripped bare by coyotes and other desert scavengers. Thanks to a police crime lab in Nevada, the pair had been quickly identified as two men that were known associates of the Whittemores, and who both had criminal histories, but who also hadn’t been seen or heard from since just before the twins were abducted.

 

There were also bank transactions that lead from the Whittemore’s bank accounts to several shell corporations that, eventually, linked to a couple of people in South Africa who were in the position to falsify the records needed to make the Whittemore’s cover story believable.

 

Roy couldn’t believe how easily everything had fallen into place, once they’d found out that the Whittemore’s were behind everything. If it had been any other case that the group had worked on it would be almost embarrassing. As it was Roy couldn’t help be mortified that they hadn’t figured everything out and found the boys earlier.  

 

If they had found them earlier, then chances were he wouldn’t be here in this hospital corridor, waiting and wondering when his youngest son would wake up next.  

Roy was dragged from his thoughts by the sound of someone calling his name, and Roy snapped to full awareness, his eyes scanning the corridor until they fell on the familiar sight of Sherriff John Stilinski walking towards him. Roy couldn’t help but notice how tired and worn the man looked, especially when Roy remembered how he’d looked the night that they had met, before they’d realized that Stiles was even missing.

 

“Mind if I join you?” John asked, gesturing to the unoccupied seat next to Roy.

 

Roy shook his head, “be my guest,” he offered. The older man sat down with a grateful groan.

 

“How is he?” Roy found himself asking.

 

The Sherriff chuckled and a weary smile crossed his face, “He’s a lot better than he was the first few times he woke up. There’s nothing wrong with his head, he’s still as sharp as ever.”

 

“Does…does he know about…about Thea and I?”

 

“Apparently the Whittemores told him, and what they didn’t tell him he figured out on his own. To use his words it hasn’t really sunk in for him yet.” John sighed, rubbing his hand over his face wearily.

 

“I know that you guys want to meet him, and I suppose theoretically I can’t stop you from meeting him, but…just give him a little longer. Another day, maybe, just to give him the chance to get his head around everything. I know him…it won’t take him long before he’ll get curious about you and he’ll be begging for the opportunity to meet you guys, but…but I don’t think he’s ready just yet.”

 

Roy couldn’t hide the disappointment that crossed his face, but he nodded, understanding where John was coming from. If he was in Alex…Stiles’ position he’d want a little more time to process things too.

 

“Of course, whenever he’s ready,” Roy told John, who smiled and clasped Roy’s shoulder supportively.

 

“Did you ask him about the other thing?” Roy asked, and John shifted in his seat with a heavy sigh, knowing exactly what Roy was talking about…the supernatural, and Stiles’ involvement in it.

 

“Yeah…I’m fairly sure that he wouldn’t have ever told me the truth about it, if this hadn’t happened.”

 

“What makes you think that?” Roy asked curiously.

 

“Ever…ever since Claudia died Stiles has been…particularly interested…no…obsessed is the right word, with my health. He’s convinced that, one day, I’m going to drop dead with a heart attack or something. Other than reassuring him that I was healthy and that there was no reason why something like that would happen there wasn’t anything I could do. He keeps track of what I eat, bribes the deputies into spying on me to make sure I’m not sneaking junk food, and I can handle that, but…but he couldn’t…wouldn’t tell me about what he’d gotten involved in, not because he thought he’d get in trouble or anything like that, but because he thought that I’d freak out at the news and have a heart attack right there, or that I’d insist on getting involved and end up dead because of it.”

 

“It shows that he loves you,” Roy offered gently, trying to be reassuring, “and that he doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

 

“I know, and he’s never been one of those teens going around saying that they hate their parents and things like that, but I can’t help but feel that I let him down when Claudia died, that I was too absorbed in my own grief over losing her that I forgot that I still had to look after him, so he decided that he didn’t need looking after anymore and that he had to look after me, and not the other way around. I never realized it had gotten this bad…that he’d held back from telling me things just because he’s scared that I’m going to die because of it.”

 

“I can sort of see his reasoning,” Roy offered thoughtfully, “for all he knew up until a few days ago you were the only parent he had left. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent, and he doesn’t want to go through that again, especially with the added guilt of being the one that brought you into it. From what we’ve been told it hasn’t exactly been the easiest of times for the kids…dying probably looked like it was a highly plausible outcome for any of them…Stiles probably more than the rest.”

 

“What do you mean?” John asked.

 

Roy shrugged, “He’s the normal one,” he explained, “no superpowers, no healing ability, no super speed or strength, no claws or teeth, no experience, and no weapon aside from his own brain, and Stiles is smart enough to be fully aware of it. Derek was born with powers, knows how to control them, how to use them to his advantage, and what he is capable of. Jackson, Scott, Erica, Boyd and Isaac are all new to their powers, and the few times they’ve had them tested they’ve come out ok on the other side of it all. Lydia, she’s the only one who is close to being in the same boat as Stiles, but he’s had much more time to dwell on the fact that, physically, he’s the weakest link, and that he has a giant target on his back because of it. What happened to him when he was kidnapped by Gerard Argent probably only highlighted the fact...as will his abduction by the Whittemores.”

 

The look that John was giving Roy was tinged with awe and respect, “I hadn’t thought about it that way. I mean, when Scott and Derek and the others told me I knew that Stiles was the odd man out, the vulnerable one, and I guessed that it would put him more danger than the others, but I hadn’t really considered it from his perspective. I know he’s had a couple of self esteem issues lately, but I just put it down to school getting to him and everything. You sound like you know a lot about this kind of thing.”

 

Roy shrugged, “I’ve had a bit to do with kids over the years…a lot of them have gotten caught up with situations that leave them feeling…vulnerable. This is different...completely different, but you can sort of apply the theory to what Stiles has been through.”

 

John slumped in his chair, his overall manner defeated, “When you guys arrived in town, and we found out about Stiles’ connection to you, I was scared that you were going to take him away. I’m beginning to think that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you did. You seem to know what you’re talking about, and   God knows, I’m not doing a very good job of being a dad to Stiles. At least in Starling City he’s not going to be sneaking out every night risking his life because his friends are almost all werewolves.”

 

“Starling City has its own dangers,” Roy replied, “Yes, it’s safer there now than it was twenty years ago, but it’s still poses a risk, especially due to the…fame of this family. I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. Over the last few days numerous people have told me how close you and Stiles are, how much Stiles cares for you, and you for him. Before we arrived in Beacon Hills Thea and I swore that, unless it was the boys wanted to, we wouldn’t force them to come back with us. Over the last few days we’ve discussed getting a house here ourselves so Jackson can still stay here with the pack, since the Whittemores aren’t an option anymore. We’d even split them up, if they wanted different things. From what I’ve been told, though, Stiles isn’t going to want to go anywhere but home, with you.”      


	20. Chapter 20

“What are they like?” Stiles asked Scott as the pair sat side by side on Stiles’ hospital bed, Stiles’ laptop open in front of them as they watched the Avengers on it. Scott didn’t even need to ask who Stiles was referring too.

 

“They’re nice,” he replied, shifting slightly so he could face Stiles, being careful not to disturb any of the tubes or wires Stiles was still attached to. Stiles simply lifted a eyebrow.

 

“They’re nice? Seriously Scott, what are you, five? A little more detail please.”

 

“I don’t know,” shrugged Scott, “They…they care a lot about you…and Jackson. They were really surprised to find out about…everything. They…they’re sad too, about how long you guys have been separated from them, but at the same time, they respect your dad, they know that he loves you, and that you love him. They’re not going to force you to leave him. My mom commented on how sensitive and understanding about everything they were being. They’re good people.”  

 

Stiles sighed and nodded, knowing that he probably wouldn’t get much more detail out of Scott. He sort of wanted to make up his own mind about his biological family anyway. Scott had the tendency to see the best in people, and ignore their faults, so Stiles wasn’t convinced his best friend was the best judge of an individual’s character.

 

The two boys fell into a comfortable silence as the movie played on the laptop screen in front of them.

 

“How are you going with…everything?” Scott eventually asked, breaking the comfortable silence of the room.

 

Stiles shrugged, “I’ve been thinking about it, and really, I can’t complain about it. I’m not like Jackson. He thought he knew what happened to his biological parents, only for it all to be a big lie anyway. I never did, it was all a mystery. Now I know, and…and I’m glad I know…that it wasn’t my biological parents that abused me as a baby and left me out in the woods to die. I’m glad that I’m going to get the chance to meet them and get to know them. The fact that I’m one of the Harper-Queen kids is the scariest part…even scarier than everything else that’s happened.”

 

“What’s so scary about being one of the Harper-Queens?” Scott asked with a frown.

 

“Ever since…probably since my dad got elected, and definitely since my mom died, I’ve known that my behavior had an impact on my dad’s job. It didn’t stop me from doing a lot of stuff…and you know what happened to my dad’s job because of that. The Harper-Queens…they’re big news, I mean, they so much as sneeze in public and it is on the internet in seconds, and it makes headline news on the evening news bulletins. My dad said that they haven’t made a formal announcement yet, they were waiting for Jackson and I to get our head around things, but once they do I’m never going to put a toe out of line again without the world knowing about it.”

 

“Surely it won’t be that bad?”

 

“Dude, ten bucks says that there is going to be a media scrum outside the hospital within 10 minutes of the announcement being made.”

 

‘I’m sure things will die down soon though, things will be back to normal by the time we go back to school.”

 

“And what happens if we have to prevent the apocalypse before then? The Jeep isn’t exactly inconspicuous? How am I going to help you guys if I have half the nation’s media chasing after me?”

 

Scott tilted his head to the side, “Stiles, you only woke up properly the first time yesterday, after being tortured, and almost bleeding out. You have broken ribs, and I literally have no idea how many stitches holding you together right now. I hate to tell you this, but I think it’ll be awhile before you’re going to be able to help us out with anything except for research or something that involves you not moving around.”

 

Stiles huffed and gave a rueful smile to his best friend, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded.      

 

“So…what about the thing with Gerard…how are you going with that?” Scott cautiously asked. Stiles stilled, his eyes focusing on the laptop screen, instead of looking at Scott and hi bit his lip nervously, his fingers playing with a stray thread on the blanket covering him.

 

He hadn’t expected Erica and Boyd to reveal the truth about what had happened that night, although, really, with everything else that had happened, he didn’t really blame them. Besides, it was probably for the best. The fact that Stiles had been carrying injuries that nobody could explain, especially when things had been notably tense between he and his dad, probably raised a lot of questions, and Stiles didn’t want his dad getting falsely accused of anything. At least now the truth was out there, and nobody could blame the Sherriff of anything inappropriate.

 

“I’m…actually ok about what happened that night,” Stiles admitted after a lengthy pause, “I mean, yes, I was scared, and yes, I don’t want it to happen again, but at the same time I wouldn’t change what happened. I mean, yeah, if I could change the past and make it so that Erica, Boyd and I weren’t kidnapped by Gerard, and that Gerard didn’t manipulate Allison into helping him hurt them, then, yeah, I would have done it, but I don’t regret doing what I did, protecting Erica and Boyd and all that.”

 

“You really were the hero that night…on and off the lacrosse pitch. You even saved Jackson from being killed by Derek and Peter.”

 

“Do you think that’ll make Jackson like me more?”

 

“I don’t know, but I’ll think about it,” a voice from the doorway said. Stiles and Scott both jumped, and Stiles winced as the movement jostled his injuries as he tilted his head and looked at the doorway. Jackson leaned against the hospital doorframe, looking healthy, but a little more subdued than he did normally.

 

Scott glanced at Stiles, before looking over at Jackson, before he slid off the bed and walked towards the other werewolf, “Am I going to regret leaving you two alone?” he asked Jackson in a hushed tone, not wanting Stiles to hear the question.

 

Jackson rolled his eyes, “I won’t hurt your boyfriend, McCall, you don’t have to worry.”

 

“Good.” Scott nodded, passing Jackson and walking out into the corridor. He walked until he was far enough away they he wouldn’t hear the conversation occurring within the hospital room, as long as they kept to a normal speaking volume. If one of them started shouting, he would know, and he was ready to step in before things got violent. He said nothing when Derek silently joined him, probably there for the exact same reason…to prevent things getting too out of hand if Jackson and Stiles decided to start arguing.

 

Of course, Scott wasn’t exactly sure which of the two teenagers he’d left in Stiles’ hospital room would be the one to start yelling first.

 

TW/A

 

“So…How have you been?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence dragging out between the two teenagers.

 

Jackson shifted his weight, “better than you,” he shrugged, “Lydia told me that the doctors think you’re gonna be ok?”

 

“Eventually, yeah. It might take a bit, but yeah…I’ll be good for Lacrosse next season.”

 

“You think coach will put you back on the team?” Jackson asked with a smirk.

 

Stiles shrugged, “Hey, I was the hero of the championship game,” he boasted, “Coach loves me.”

 

A flicker of a smile crossed Jackson’s face, and he took a few tentative steps forwards, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

 

“Listen…I, um, I’m sorry that they…the Whittemores took you. You shouldn’t have been dragged into this. They only took you because I escaped and ran away.”

 

“Er, it’s not like you knew that they were going to go after me, dude,” Stiles pointed out, “and if you hadn’t tried to escape I’d be even more pissed. Of the two of us somebody needs to have some sense of life preservation.”

 

“I would have guessed that that would have been you,” Jackson offered.

 

Stiles snorted, “You’re joking, right. I’m a human that runs around with a pack of werewolves. I have zero sense of preservation.”

 

“You’ve got a point there,” Jackson admitted with a wry smile, edging another cautious step closer.

 

“Seriously though,” Stiles questioned with a frown, “how are you coping with…everything.”

 

“It’s been a…interesting couple of days,” Jackson admitted, “Lydia’s been great…Danny too, and Derek…has been better than I thought he would be about everything. I…I think I underestimated him.”

 

“A lot of people do,” Stiles agreed, thinking back of his own first impression of Derek.

 

“I…I do owe Isaac and apology…or five,” Jackson conceded, “I might have taken things out on him a couple of times.”

 

“I sometimes want to punch him too,” Stiles nodded, “have you met…them?”

 

“Not really,” Jackson admitted, “I mean, yeah, at the house, and then in the hospital waiting room, but once the bombshell got dropped I’ve kept my distance. I’m actually surprised they haven’t been more insistent about me staying with them. They were happy for me to stay with Danny and take Derek’s word for it that I was ok.”

 

“It’s the Queens,” Stiles pointed out, “They’re rolling in it, even by your standards, they probably had a PI following you or something.”

 

Jackson hesitated, “Now that you mention it, there was a couple of times when I felt like I was being watched. I thought it was just because of…of everything that happened.”

 

“You know…I think this is the most we’ve ever talked,” Stiles commented. Jackson nodded with a shrug. At least recently this by far had been their longest conversation.

 

“I suppose we’re going to have to learn to get along with each other.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

Silence stretched out between the two teenagers. Stiles honestly wasn’t sure exactly what to say, for the first time since the immediate aftermath following his mother’s death. Jackson, for his part, was studiously looking everywhere in the room except at the bed where Stiles lay.

 

“What are you watching?”

 

“Er…the Avengers,” Stiles explained, “Scott has a thing for the Black Widow.”

 

A wry smile crossed Jackson’s face, “Every time I watch that with Danny he spends a lot of it talking about Jeremy Renner’s shoulders….and Chris Evans’ ass…and, well, all of Chris Hemsworth.”

 

“Can you blame the guy?” Stiles replied, “I mean…Chris Hemsworth is, like, literally a god.”

 

“Remind me to suggest to Danny that you two have some movie nights or something then.”

 

Stiles snorted, “I don’t think I’m Danny’s type.”

 

“But he’s your type?”

 

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, and ducked his gaze, ignoring the slight noise made by Jackson’s shoes against the smooth hospital floor as the other teenager stepped a little closer. He didn’t move, even when he felt the bed dip slightly as Jackson occupied the position that Scott had vacated beside him.

 

“If you haven’t noticed, Stiles, I don’t care about the sexuality of those around me. When Danny first came out I learned how scary the world out there can be for people who don’t follow gender norms, or who like people of the same sex. It was just another thing I hated about the world, but I promised myself that I would never use someone’s sexuality against them, make everything worse for you. Besides, everyone knows that you’ve been in love with Lydia since about the third grade, so I don’t think you are strictly boys only like Danny is.”

 

Stiles blinked and turned his head so he was facing Jackson, “You never teased me about my mom either,” he observed quietly.

 

Jackson swallowed, “Yeah. I don’t know if you figured this out from your…encounter with my parents, but I didn’t get much love growing up. It only made me more pissed when they told me I was adopted. I used to sit in the playground at pick up time and I’d watch everyone else getting picked up because the Whittemores often forget, or whoever they’d paid to pick me up forgot, and I’d see how obvious it was that all these parents loved their kids. Then…then you started being picked up later and later, and sometimes it was your dad that picked you up, or Scott’s mom, whereas before it had almost always been your mom, sometimes with your dad, but always your mom. A couple of months after that started I overheard the Whittemores talking about your mom, about how she was sick…dying. Your dad went to the Whittemores to sort legal things out, change wills around and power of attorney if something happened to him and your mom wasn’t well enough to deal with it, I guess. I used to remember watching you and your mom, how much she loved you, and I realized that you…you weren’t going to have that anymore, from your mom anyway. I didn’t spread any of the stories that went around the school about your mom and some of the …stranger things she did before she went into the hospital…actually got into a couple of fights shutting kids up about it. You had enough to deal with without hearing the stories that were being spread.”

 

“You did?” Stiles exclaimed in shock, “How did I not know about that?”

 

Jackson shrugged, ignoring the ways Stiles’ eyes had filled with tears, “You had enough shit on your plate as it was. Scott knows. There was one day when he helped Danny hold two bigger kids down while I gave them blood noses for talking about your mom. He doesn’t know about that day in the boys’ bathroom though. Nobody knows about that except you and me. Anyway, once your mom was dead I couldn’t bring myself to tease you about your mom being gone…because my real mom was gone too, as far as I knew back then, and I saw how you were dealing with it, and I realized that you were worse off than me. Yeah, I never knew my mom, and my adopted mom didn’t give a shit, she only pretended to, but you lost a mom who you loved, and who loved you back. You don’t need to be an expert to know which one would hurt more. ”

 

“Thank-you,” Stiles offered, “Maybe all those times watching the notebook with Lydia have softened you.”

 

“Maybe, just please don’t cry on me. I’m…not good with drying.”

 

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized, wiping at the tears leaking from his eyes, “Can’t help it…it’s the lighting.”

 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jackson turned his head, giving Stiles the chance to wipe his eyes discretely, which Stiles quickly did.

 

“So…my dad told me that the Harper-Queens went to your house first. Was it a whole ‘Jackson, I am your father’ thing, or what?”

 

“No…it was actually the Whittemores who actually said it,” Jackson admitted, ‘It was more like ‘he is your father’ than anything else. Kind of funny now I think about it that I jumped through a first floor window to escape.”

 

“And that you have a twin as well,” Stiles added.

 

“Doesn’t that make you Leia?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being Leia. Leia is awesome,” Stiles defended. Jackson nodded in agreement.

 

“Dude there is no way I could have this conversation with Scott,” Stiles admitted after a slight pause. Jackson frowned.

 

“I thought this would be right up McCall’s alley. We’re being all deep and meaningful and crap.”

 

Stiles shook his head, “Scott hasn’t seen Star Wars…any of them. He wouldn’t understand any of the references we’re making.”

 

“What the hell? How has McCall not seen Star Wars? I thought it was prerequisite viewing before you became a nerd.”

 

“I think he skipped nerd school that day,” Stiles joked, “I haven’t been able to convince him to catch up.”

 

“I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised. I mean, yes, some of the things you are into I don’t understand, but things like Avengers and Star Wars…everybody has seen those, they’re more mainstream than not. Maybe you can pity him into watching it with you while you’re stuck in here.”

 

“I would,” Stiles nodded, “but Scott has summer school, and work, and he’s pining about Allison…not so much for good company these days, as much as I appreciate him staying around and looking after me.” I know that his mom was fine with it when I was still out of it, but now I’m getting better she wants him to get on with summer school.”

 

Jackson nodded but said nothing.

 

“So…when you met them…what were they like?” Stiles asked curiously, hoping that Jackson would be more forthcoming than Scott had been.

 

“They…they care, I think,” Jackson murmured after thinking for a minute. Stiles had been quiet, worried that Jackson wasn’t going to talk.

 

“They care more than the Whittemore’s did, especially if your theory about the P.I. is true. When No-one was sure if you were going to make it they were really worried…and at the same time they kept looking at me, like they wanted to talk to me, but didn’t know what to say.   I’d say that they’re about as curious about us as you are about them.”

 

“And you’re not curious?”

 

“Well...” Jackson shrugged, “I’ve been living with Danny for the last few days, and, well, Danny has his…skills.”

 

“You got him to hack info about the Queens?   Are you insane?”

 

“Oh come on, Stilinski, you’re just jealous that I thought of it first.”

 

Stiles couldn’t deny that Jackson had a valid point, but he didn’t want to admit that to the other boy.

 

“So…what did you find out?”

 

“Not much,” Jackson admitted, “They have somebody who is very good at cyber security. Danny couldn’t get through many firewalls at all, and most of what he did find was public knowledge anyway. Lydia helped, she trawled through a lot of newspaper and magazine articles, but how accurate they are is debatable. Now, shut up so I can fill you in on what we’re fairly confident is real.”

 

Stiles willingly kept quiet as Jackson made himself comfortable and began to speak.


	21. Chapter 21

“What do you mean you trailed Jackson…Robbie, to the hospital?” Thea asked Diggle, looking up and down the hospital corridor worriedly to make sure no-one had heard what she’d said. It wouldn’t be a good look for the Harper-Queens to start of their renewed relationship with their sons to have one of them followed, even if it was for their own security. The Whittemores were safely locked up, but who knew what business associates they might have.

 

An official statement hadn’t been released to the press, but it was ready for whenever Sherriff Stilinski gave the all clear. Since he was the one who knew Stiles the best, and Thea, nor any of her friends and family, had no desire or intention of casting him from Alex’s life, they had all agreed that he would be the one to decide when the time was right. The Sherriff, for his part, had looked alarmed at the prospect, but once he’d been reassured that the official statement wouldn’t actually be coming from him, he’d been much happier about the plan. He had suggested waiting until after Stiles had met Thea and Roy before releasing the statement, and everyone else had agreed, thinking it was a good idea.

 

“Jackson’s there,” Diggle elaborated, and Thea could almost see the older man rolling his eyes.

 

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

 

“I’ll stay out here, so I’ll see him when he leaves.”

 

“Thanks John,” Thea smiled, before she hung up, sitting back down beside Roy.

 

“I assume you gathered the gist of that conversation,” she asked lightly.

 

Roy nodded, “He could be coming to visit us,” he offered hopefully, “or Stiles.”

 

“Probably Stiles…one of the others probably told him that Stiles was well enough for visitors. They are friends after all.”

 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Roy suggested

 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Thea smiled rising to her feet again and gathering her jacket and purse, before they walked side by side down the corridor. They’d changed their usual waiting spot to one further away from Stiles’ room. It meant that they didn’t have line of sight with Stiles’ door anymore, but it had seemed like a good idea when they wanted to wait until the right moment before Stiles met them for the first time.

 

Thea was surprised to see Scott and Derek leaning against the wall of the corridor, not far from Stiles’ room, neither of the pair looking particularly worried.

 

“Hey guys,” Roy greeted casually.

 

“What are you boys doing out here. I thought you and Stiles were watching movies together?” Thea added. It had been part of the Sherriff’s plan for Scott to watch Stiles’ favorite movies with him to get Stiles in a good mood while the Sherriff was at work going through some things with Lance, so that when he got back he could introduce Stiles to Thea and Roy.

 

“Jackson wanted to see him,” Scott replied with a shrug, shooting a glance towards Stiles’ hospital room. Thea blinked, remembering how she’s been told that all werewolves had better than human hearing.

 

“Are you eavesdropping on them?” she asked.

 

“No, I’m out of range, as long as the keep to normal speaking volume,” Scott replied, “if one of them starts shouting, though, I’ll know about it.”

 

“So far they’re being very civil,” Derek added.

 

“You’re here to stop them from getting violent, aren’t you?” Roy accused, but without any heat.

 

Derek and Scott both nodded, “Jackson’s control isn’t at its best, and the full moon isn’t that far away,” Scott offered, “And even before he was a werewolf Jackson’s always had a short fuse, and Stiles is very good at setting it off.”

 

“No worries so far, though,” Derek added, seeing the concern on Thea and Roy’s faces.

 

“What’s going on?” the voice of Sheriff Stilinski asked, from behind them, and Scott jumped, although none of the others did.

 

“Jackson’s in with Stiles…nicely,” Derek summarized.

 

Sherriff Stilinski’s eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise, “Really? And they’re getting along?”

 

“So far,” Derek nodded.

 

The Sherriff made a thoughtful noise, “I might go and quickly check on them. If they’re happy to you might get to see both of them today.”

 

Thea could hide the smile that broke out on her face at the very thought as the Sherriff made his way down the corridor. Roy too was smiling happily at the prospect of seeing not just Stiles, but Jackson as well.

 

Their older son had been putting a lot of effort into avoiding Roy, Thea, and anyone associated with them, but Thea knew it couldn’t have lasted forever. She understood that her older son needed space and time to deal with the bombshell that had been dropped on him, but there would be a time when Jackson would have to face the music and meet with them again. She just hadn’t imagined the reunion happening so soon.

 

TW/A

 

Sherriff John Stilinski hesitated briefly before he tentatively tapped on the door to Stiles’ hospital room, not quite sure what he would see when he entered the room. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t the sight of Jackson Whittemore almost falling off the edge of Stiles’ hospital bed in his haste to get off it and into the seat sitting beside the bed. John couldn’t hold back the smile at the look of genuine amusement on Stiles’ face at the wide eyed expression on the face of the other teenager.

 

It was obvious that the two boys had been lying on the bed beside one another, before John’s arrival, and that Jackson had moved to avoid being seen. John knew enough of the boy’s personality to know that he was worried about his perceived image and social standing, although John cared about neither. It was, however oddly moving to know that Jackson Whittemore did, after all, care, in some way, about Stiles. It made John oddly hopeful about the two of them reconciling their differences and moving on, secure in knowing that they were actually brothers, although if the other werewolves and Lydia were to be believed Jackson and Stiles had, tentatively, been friends since the night of the Lacrosse final.  

 

“You boys ok? No violence or anything?”

 

“No, we’re ok, dad,” Stiles reassured, “Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one surprised.”

 

“Stiles…knowing what I do about you two have… reacted to one another in the past, and I know that I probably don’t know about every little fight or whatever…nor do I have any real desire to know about every single fight you two got into. Surprised is an understatement. Surprised was when I found about the furry little problem the majority of your friends have once a month. This? This is a sign of the apocalypse.”

 

Jackson snorted in his chair while Stiles rolled his eyes.

 

“Ok, firstly, well done on the pop culture reference. I’m proud of you; secondly, we weren’t that bad. We have worked together in the past successfully, and we do have some common interests.”

 

“Really, name one?” John asked, walking a few steps forward into the room.

 

“Lydia,” Stiles and Jackson both replied at the same time.

 

“Ok, point taken,” John conceded, “was there a third item on your list?”

 

“Well, no,” Stiles admitted, “but give me time and I’ll think one up.”

 

“Yeah…wait, I’ve gotta ask…apocalypses…are they going to be a thing now? Because that joke just became a lot less funny when I remembered everything you guys have gone through already.”

 

Jackson’s expression turned thoughtful, and he too turned to look at Stiles who, looked from John, to Jackson, and back at John again.

 

“Everything else has been real…why not apocalypses?” Stiles shrugged eventually, “I’m just waiting for Deaton to say, ‘hey, guess what, we’re all living on a hell mouth, and there’s a demon army coming to kill us all.”

 

“Right,” John sighed, not reassured in the slightest, “anyway, moving on from that…cheerful thought, I have a question for you guys.”

 

“What’s up, Dad?”

 

“I wanted to know if…if both of you are up for meeting Roy and Thea today. Jackson, I know that you met them briefly before, but…but from all accounts that could have gone better, and Stiles hasn’t met them at all. You can both say no, if you don’t think you’re ready for it, or if you want to do it separately that’s fine too. It’s up to you guys.”

 

John watched the expressions on the faces of the teenagers closely as he talked. Jackson’s expression became more subdued and uncertain. Stiles, for his part, looked enthusiastic, his eyes visibly brightening as he considered the possibility of meeting his biological parents for the first time…something John knew that Stiles had imagined since he was very young, especially after Claudia died. It was only because he knew Stiles, however, that he saw the fear beneath the excitement and anticipation.

 

There were very few who knew about how Stiles hid his fears, insecurities and problems behind the mask of the annoying chatterbox. John himself knew that he often couldn’t see past the mask and observe his son’s real feelings. Claudia had been the best at it, and John had blown his chance to learn when he’d thrown himself so completely into his work and the bottom of a bottle following Claudia’s death. Now the one who could see through Stiles’ mask the best would probably be Scott, but at the same time John knew that Scott had his own issues, and there had been times in the last six months when Scott had missed something…by the teenager’s own admission.

 

Now, however, John could see through the cracks in Stiles’ masks as clear as day. He could see that Stiles was scared, insecure and nervous about the prospect of meeting his biological parents for the first time in his memory. John couldn’t blame Stiles, if he was in the teenager’s position, not knowing Thea and Roy except for what he was being told by others, he would be terrified.

 

It wasn’t as if John didn’t like…or trust Thea and Roy…they seemed like great people, they were genuinely concerned about and interested in the welfare of their sons, and he was sure that, given time, Stiles would like them too (although it would take time…Stiles was notorious for being slow to warm up to people).

 

As John watched the two teenagers, he wondered if he’d possibly made a mistake by asking them while they were together. Stiles and Jackson had a long history of not getting along, and John was concerned that, if one of them decided he wanted to meet Thea and Roy, the other twin, regardless of whether he felt ready or not, would say he would too, just to save face and not look weaker in front of his brother. Being the one who had known truth for less time (considering he’d been unconscious for most of the time since he’d been told by the Whittemores) John was particularly concerned about Stiles, but Jackson had his own issues that needed to be factored into consideration. John wasn’t sure which of the two boys was actually the more prepared for meeting Thea and Roy, and he only hoped that they didn’t push themselves to far too soon.

 

A/TW

 

The white knuckled grip Thea had on Roy’s hand did nothing to alleviate the tension coursing through her body as she and Roy followed John Stilinski towards the room where Robbie and Alex…Jackson and Stiles…the twins…her sons…were waiting for them.

 

After almost fifteen and a half years after she had last seen her boys she would finally see them again, together, alive and on the road to recovery, both physically and mentally after their respective ordeals with the Whittemores.

 

The three of them stopped outside the hospital room door, and Thea took a moment to take a few deep, calming breaths, trying to slow her pounding heart and settle her nerves. It felt as though she was about to go into battle against all of the foes that she had helped Oliver face over the years, all at once.

 

A sideways glance towards Roy told Thea that she wasn’t the only one feeling nervous. Roy was licking his lips, looking far more nervous and on edge than Thea had seen him in years. Despite that though, he still gave her a reassuring smile when he noticed her eyes on him.

 

Thea leaned over and kissed Roy briefly, whispering “I love you”, as she pulled away.

 

“I know,” Roy replied with a forced smile that made him look at least ten years younger than he did normally. Thea rolled her eyes as the Sherriff bit his lip in amusement at the interaction.

 

“Keep up with the Star Wars references in front of Stiles and you’ll get on just fine,” he reassured them, before he pushed down the door handle and swung the door open, leading the way into the room.       


TW/A

 

The first thing Stiles noticed about Thea Queen and Roy Harper was how nervous they were. It had made him feel a bit better about his own nerves.

 

Ever since he was little he had dreamed of meeting his biological parents, wondered what they looked like…wondered if they were the ones responsible for abandoning him in the woods. Now that he was face to face with them for the first time, and he knew most of the story of how he came to be left, beaten and battered, in the woods to die, he wasn’t sure how he felt.

 

Of all the ways he’d imagined meeting his parents, he’d never imagined it like this…him in a hospital bed, with Jackson Whittemore, of all people, as his newly discovered twin brother. He certainly hadn’t ever imagined that his parents would be Thea Queen and Roy Harper…THE Thea Queen and Roy Harper, the ones from Starling City…the ones who were often on the news, even in beacon Hills, for something or other.

 

For the first time in years…since his mother’s death, really, Stiles wasn’t sure what to say. Neither did anyone else in the room, it seemed, as the silence lengthened. Stiles caught his father’s eye, but the Sherriff simply shrugged and shifted his feet, obviously not sure what to do to help the situation.

 

“Ok…this is stupid,” Jackson finally exclaimed, “Somebody just say something. Stilinski…that’s your area of expertise.”

 

In his position by the wall the Sherriff groaned and dramatically smacked his palm into his face.

 

“Thank you, Jackson,” Stiles hissed sarcastically, “Excuse me if I wanted to take a moment.”

 

“How much of a moment do you need,” Jackson rolled his eyes, although Stiles could tell that that, despite the words, there was no real heat behind them.

 

“So…hi again” Jackson directed the greeting towards Thea and Roy, “How are you liking Beacon Hills.”

 

“Its fine, thank you,” Roy managed to choke out. Hearing her partner’s voice must have made something in Thea click, Stiles figured, because the moment Roy finished speaking, Thea moved, stepping hesitantly towards him and Jackson.

 

“Oh, my boys,” she whispered softy, “I can’t believe this; you’re safe, after all this time.”

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call Beacon Hills safe,” ventured Stiles with a shrug that pulled uncomfortably at his stitches.

 

Thea smiled, “No, I don’t suppose you boys would, after everything you’ve been through. We haven’t actually introduced ourselves. I’m Thea Queen, and this is my partner, Roy Harper...we’re your parents. Biological parents,” Thea corrected herself, with a smile at the Sherriff.

 

“You obviously know who I am already,” Stiles offered, “But you can call me Stiles. I…I’m happy to meet you guys.”  

“We’re happy to meet you too, Stiles,” Thea replied, before she turned her attention to Jackson.

 

“Ho…how have you been?” she asked gently. From years of experience Stiles could tell from the way that Jackson shifted his weight that he was uncomfortable.

 

Finally, Jackson shrugged, “I’m OK,” he admitted, “I…I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did.”

 

Thea huffed a small laugh, “Trust me, I understand. I thought you did a good job, you should have seen the way I reacted when I found out that Malcolm Merlyn was my actual dad.”

 

Jackson had his back to Stiles, but Stiles could see the way his brother’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Thea slowly, cautiously reached out her hand and gently, almost tenderly, held Jackson’s own hand.

 

“I missed you so much, my precious baby boy,” Thea choked out, her eyes welling with tears. Stiles blinked in surprise when Jackson, after a few moments, seemed to melt, moving forward and accepting the welcoming arms of Thea as he leaned against her, her arms wrapping instinctively around him in a warm embrace. Jackson’s arms, slowly, and hesitantly, returned the hug, and he was so uncertain about it that it made Stiles wonder when the last time Jackson had hugged Mrs. Whittemore had been.

 

“You tell anyone about this, and I will kill you, I don’t care that you’re my brother.” Jackson murmured when he pulled away from Thea, his eyes lightly red and his cheeks a little damp, as if he’d lost the ability to fight back his own tears. Stiles, still in shock over the fact that Jackson had so willingly gone to Thea…and had actually hugged her, mimed zipping his mouth closed.

 

Thea stepped around Jackson, her tear filled eyes resting on Stiles, “What about you…Stiles? Are you…Ok?”

 

“I’ll be better once I’m out of hospital,” Stiles replied honestly, “I hate it in here…I don’t like not being stuck in bed not allowed to do anything.”

 

“Melissa told me it won’t be for too much longer. You’re healing up well, only a few more days, and then you can go home…and rest there.”

 

Stiles sighed dramatically and slumped back on the pillows, ignoring how it made his back twinge.

 

Thea reached out and squeezed his hand gently…reassuringly. It reminded Stiles of when he was younger, and he was anxious about something, and how his mother had held his hand to reassure him. Maybe the reason why he’d found it so reassuring when his mom had done it was it was something Stiles subconsciously remembered Thea doing before he was taken.

 

Thoughts of his mom…both adopted and biological, however, were forced to the back of Stiles’ mind when his dad spoke.

 

“I’m curious…which of the boys is the older twin?”

 

“Jackson is 21 minutes older than Stiles,” Roy replied.

 

“And has Jackson always looked like you…because, I’m sorry, but seeing you two in the same room is a little scary.”

 

Roy laughed, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the banter between his dad and Roy. He knew that Roy was his dad too, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to label the man ‘dad’ just yet. The same rule applied to Thea…although, despite how affectionate and attentive she was, Stiles was pretty sure that it would be awhile, if ever, before he called her mom, even if it was in his head. The word still had far too many negative associations in his head for him to even consider saying it.

 

“Yeah,” Roy replied while Stiles was still lost in his own thoughts, “Jackson has always looked more like me than anyone else.”

 

“What about Stiles?” John asked, the sound of his own name bringing Stiles from his own thoughts.

 

“Stiles always was a bit of a mix of my side of the family,” Thea replied, “My brothers, Malcolm, and my mom.”

 

“What are you guys going to do about the newspapers and stuff?’ Jackson asked, “Danny said that there hasn’t been anything official stated yet about…us…being found.”

 

“We decided to wait, until you had both gotten a chance to get your heads around things. It has given the criminal investigation enough time to get things moving too. There have been multiple accomplices arrested; both here, and in South Africa,” Roy explained, “We…we probably won’t be able to hold it off much longer though.”

 

“We’re lucky that the secret has lasted as well as they have,” Thea nodded in agreement.

 

“What are you going to say?” Stiles asked curiously.

 

“The truth,” Thea replied, “minus the bits regarding werewolves and the like, of course. It will probably mean that the fact that I’m actually Malcolm’s daughter will become public knowledge, but that’s a small price to pay when you two are involved.”

 

Jackson cleared his throat uncertainly, “What’s going to happen then?”

  

“That’s up to you boys,” Roy told them, “You both have lives here…friends…family,” Roy nodded his head respectfully towards Stiles’ dad, who smiled at his thoughtfulness.

 

“We’ll respect your decision, whatever it is. You can stay here in Beacon Hills, or you can come to Starling City to live. Roy and I are happy to come and live here, if it means that we can be closer to you boys. You have lots of time to make your choice, you don’t have to decide right now, or today, or even this week,” Thea added reassuringly with a smile, “and…and whatever you choose, it won’t change how much we love you both.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Guys, shut up, it’s starting,” Lydia ordered, using the remote to turn up the volume of the TV in Stiles’ hospital room. The whole pack fell silent, watching the screen. The whole pack was there. Lydia was sitting in Jackson’s lap in the chair beside Stiles’ bed, while Scott sat on the bed beside Stiles. Isaac and Erica sat at the end of the bed, while Derek, Boyd and Danny had brought in chairs.

 

On the TV screen Quentin Lance, the Chief of Police for Starling City, and a long time friend of the Queen family, stood at a podium, flanked on one side by Thea and Roy, and by Thea’s brother Oliver on the other. Stiles hadn’t met Oliver Queen yet…only a day had passed since he had met Roy and Thea for the first time, and his dad, Thea and Roy hadn’t wanted to push things too far too quickly.

 

Although you couldn’t see him in the shot on TV, Stiles knew his dad was there for the media conference, although not in an official capacity. The case had, officially, been taken over by the FBI, with the full support of the Beacon Hills, Sacramento and Starling City Police units involved, although he had been relieved when Melissa had told him that Scott’s dad wasn’t involved in the case. Of course, the FBI’s involvement had meant that there had to be some changes made to the story, editing out the fact that Jackson had been shot…since there was no physical evidence of the fact, thanks to Jackson’s healing abilities, but Stiles’ dad had reassured him that it had been handled. The Whittemores were looking at lengthy jail sentences, despite the high profile lawyers they had hired.

 

On the screen in front of them Quentin Lance began to speak, his years of experience in speaking to the media showing in the way he stood and spoke to the camera, as well as the assembled press.

 

“Thank you to you all for coming out here today,” he began “I’m sure you are all wondering why we are running this press conference. It is with genuine happiness and relief that I can announce that Robert Oliver Harper-Queen and Alexander Thomas Harper-Queen have been found alive and have been reunited with their biological family. Those responsible for their abduction have been arrested and have been charged with numerous offences in relation to the abduction, and the FBI is continuing investigations. More arrests are likely.”

 

In the background, over the TV, Stiles could clearly hear the press going into a frenzy, the clicking of cameras, and the reporters beginning to fire questions, for information to put in their articles. He tuned it all out though, knowing that it would all just be old information, as far as he was concerned.

 

“How long do you think it’s going to be before they’re all camped out outside the hospital?” Isaac asked with a grim smile.

 

“I’d like to see them get past that Diggle guy,” Erica commented, “He looks like he wouldn’t take any crap from the media.”

 

Stiles had no idea who Erica was talking about, but Isaac, Boyd, and Scott all nodded in agreement to Erica’s statement.

 

“He’s the guy that was keeping an eye on you, supposedly, wasn’t he?” Danny asked

 

“Yeah,” Jackson replied.

 

“He was keeping his distance though Derek observed from where he sat. I was keeping track of where he was, and he never got too close. Just watched from a distance.”

 

“Still a bit creepy,” Stiles shuddered, “I don’t want to be followed for the rest of my life.”

 

“I don’t think you’re going to get around it, for the short term at least.” Lydia pointed out, “You’ll be lucky if they don’t assign you a bodyguard.”

 

“Pfft,” Stiles snorted, “As if I’m not sufficiently protected by you guys.”

 

“Er…I hate to point out the obvious,” Isaac interjected, “but you’ve been kidnapped twice in the last month. Maybe a little extra protection wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

 

Stiles glared at the beta werewolf, “You are not helping,” he told Isaac firmly.

 

“It doesn’t matter, for the moment,” Boyd offered, “You’re stuck in here for the time being.”

 

“How long until they let you out?” Lydia asked.

 

Shrugging, Stiles replied, “a few more days. I’m not sure how much longer the others are going to be in town though.”

 

Erica was the next to speak, her tone curious as she questioned “Have you guys put much thought into what you’re going to do?”

 

“They’ve only known about their options for less than a day, Erica,” Scott protested before Jackson or Stiles could respond, “Give them a chance to think about it before asking them.”

 

Erica pursed her lips, but said nothing, redirecting her attention to the TV, although Stiles spotted the look of approval Derek sent towards Scott. Stiles appreciated Scott’s deflection too. He’d already made up his mind…it hadn’t taken much consideration, but Stiles knew that Jackson’s situation was very different from his own, and there were a lot of things the other boy…his brother…had to consider. It was almost a given that Jackson would be living with Thea and Roy after this, since his own ‘legal guardians’ were in prison, but the questioned remained of where, exactly, they would be living.

 

And for the first time in his life, Stiles hoped that Jackson thought about himself and put himself first when taking everything into account and making his decision.

 

TW/A

 

“I’ve met the Alpha of Starling City before,” Derek offered quietly as he approached Jackson, leaning against a tree as he watched his beta, sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree as he looked out at the Lacrosse pitch.

 

As far as Derek knew Jackson hadn’t been back to the scene of his almost death since the night of the lacrosse final, and he wondered how much of the match Jackson remembered…and if those memories were coming back, haunting him from the past, just like Derek’s own memories of the time leading up to, and following, the death of the majority of his pack in the house fire that he still blamed himself for.

 

“Tyson Sykes is a good person…a good Alpha. He’s experienced; he’s been Alpha for almost twelve years. He and my mother were allies…friends even. If…If you wanted to leave he’d take you in...Keep an eye out for you…offer you a place in his pack,” Derek added, keeping his tone quiet and not letting emotion seep into his voice.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Jackson asked, finally breaking his silence.

 

Derek shook his head, “no…but you do want to leave, and I’m not going to stop you. I can understand why you want to leave. The ones who you thought were your family…the ones who loved you, betrayed you and tried to kill you, your entire life, this far, has been a cover up. You’ve been controlled and manipulated and forced to do things you didn’t want to do…by me, and by Matt and Gerard Argent.”

 

Jackson turned his head towards Derek, looking up at the Alpha. A part of Derek wanted to walk away, to stop looking at his beta…the first one he’d bitten, but he forced his feet to remain where they were.

 

“I…I failed you as an alpha,” Derek admitted, knowing deep down that it was true, “I shouldn’t have turned you when I did…I shouldn’t have treated you like I did before I even became alpha. I should have made sure that you knew what you were getting yourself into before I gave you the bite. I should have stayed close to you afterwards…I could have stopped you being controlled by Matt and Gerard.”

 

“Do you think I would have listened if you’d tried to talk me out of it?” Jackson asked.

 

Derek thought about it, “Probably not,” he conceded, “but it still went against everything my mother ever taught me about being alpha. I might not have bitten you without consent, like Peter did to Scott, but I still screwed it up.”

 

“I was the one who wanted to be a werewolf,” Jackson argued, shaking his head and looking away, back towards the lacrosse field, “all my life I’ve thought that to earn my parents love I had to be the best. I knew fairly early on that it wasn’t going to happen academically, not with me being in the same year level as Lydia, Stiles and Danny, but on the field…athletically? I could do that. Ever since I was about 10 I threw myself into being the best athlete I could, just to get the Whittemore’s to look at me. I thought I’d done it the day I got made captain of the lacrosse team. There was a moment when I thought I saw pride…love…in David Whittemore’s eyes, but it didn’t last, and then Scott came along, suddenly just as good as me, with no warning, no additional training. I thought he was on steroids at first. I hated it…I hated him, for taking everything I’d worked for my whole life away.”  


Jackson faded of, and Derek felt a tug of sympathy for his hurting beta. He’d had no idea how broken Jackson had been when he’d bitten him that night, but now he could smell the emotions rolling off the teenager. Hurt and confusion, anxiety, loneliness, guilt and regret all hung heavily in the air, souring the fresh, clear air of the woods.

 

It was enough to make Derek’s inner wolf howl, wanting to comfort his pack mate…his beta, and Derek reached out and rested his hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

 

“Everywhere I look in this town all I see are reminders of what happened, places the Whittemores took me, pretending that they were my parents…that they’d done this great thing, taking in the poor orphaned baby and bringing him all the way back home from South Africa, when really they…they’d kidnapped me just to get back at my real family over something that happened years ago.”

 

“Jackson,” Derek began, “look…there will always be a place for you in this pack, and if you want to stay, I will support you as much as I can…if Roy and Thea don’t want to come and live in Beacon Hills with you, then you can live with me, but if you do want to leave…there are options. It’s your choice.”

 

“Thanks, Derek,” Jackson nodded, sending a genuine, albeit weak smile, towards Derek. Derek clasped Jackson’s shoulder once more, before he left Jackson to his thoughts.

 

TW/A

 

“Wow, your mom wasn’t kidding when she said that this was a big deal,” Stiles observed as he folded up the newspaper that Melissa had brought in to show him. Scott nodded in agreement, taking the newspaper from Stiles’ hand and putting it in his bag. He would need to leave soon for his shift at Deaton’s, but he’d wanted to visit Stiles and check on his best friend first.

 

Outside of the hospital everyone was talking about the news. Media outlets from all over the country, and even around the world, had sent journalists and reporters to Beacon hills. All of the hotels and motels in town (not that there were many to begin with) were full, and the supermarkets were having trouble keeping up with demand for food.

 

Scott knew that Derek was concerned that a reporter might accidently stumble on something that would give away the fact that there was a pack of mostly teenaged werewolves living in town, but so far they’d been lucky. What wasn’t so lucky, for Stiles and Jackson, was that it was public knowledge who they were now, with a photo of each of them having been begrudgingly given to the media. Jackson had taken to lying low, spending his time either at Danny’s, or at Derek’s new loft, although it sounded as if he was spending a little time with Thea and Roy as well, although Scott hadn’t had the chance to talk to Jackson himself.

 

With Stiles well on the mend, and close to being released from hospital, his mom had decided that it was past time for him to go back to summer school to make up for his slipping grades. It had meant that, over the last few days, Scott hadn’t seen Stiles very often, although it sounded as if the rest of the pack had made an effort to make sure that Stiles wasn’t cooped up in hospital on his own for long periods of time.

 

Still, Scott wasn’t sure who it was that was looking forward to Stiles being out of hospital the most…Stiles himself, the doctors and nurses looking after him, or the Sherriff and Stiles’ other family and friends. Bed rest and Stiles had never been a good combination.

 

On the other hand, however, Scott wasn’t really looking forward to seeing Stiles back at home. Sure, he would be grateful that his best friend was healing after his ordeal, but at the same time he knew that Stiles being out of hospital meant that it would almost be time for Stiles to decide whether or not he would stay in Beacon Hills, or go to Starling City.

 

In the back of his mind Scott ran thought everything that had happened to Stiles since Scott had become a werewolf. He’d almost been killed (numerous times), he’d been slammed into walls (again, on numerous occasions), he’d been abducted, kidnapped, threatened, almost drowned, paralyzed and tortured, just because he was best friends with Scott.

 

Stiles would be far safer in Starling City, and although Scott knew that Stiles deserved a life where he was safely away from the supernatural, deep down Scott didn’t want his best friend to leave down. A small part of him, a small, selfish part, wanted Stiles to stay, so that Scott wouldn’t lose him… so Scott would still have Stiles to turn to.

 

Even when Scott was at his lowest point Stiles had been there with a smile and a reassuring ‘you’ve still got me.’ He wasn’t sure what he would do if Stiles wasn’t there anymore.

 

A/TW

 

Thea, Roy, Oliver and Felicity stepped over the threshold into the Stilinski family home, looking around curiously at the home Stiles had grown up in. It was the first time Oliver and Felicity had visited the residence, except for their stopover there the night that Stiles was abducted and Jackson had been shot although Thea and Roy had both been there a couple of times since Stiles had been released from hospital. None of them had wanted to be seen there too much though, afraid of leading the media to Stiles.

 

The Queen family’s lawyers had been quick to out into place measures to protect the privacy of Jackson and Stiles, although Oliver and Thea both knew from experience that they would only be able do to so much. Any chance of either of the boys having a ‘normal’ childhood was gone.

 

“You have a nice house,” Felicity complimented John Stilinski, who had let them into the house, as he closed the front door

 

“Thank you,” John replied.

Thea immediately detected the icy tone of voice the Sherriff of Beacon Hills used, although she guessed it was understandable as she followed John into the living room. Today was the day, after all, that the twins would tell them what they wanted to do regarding where they lived in the future, and John was entitled to be a little strained, given the possibility that his son might have decided to leave Beacon Hills and go to Starling City.

 

In her opinion the chances of Stiles deciding to leave the town where he’d grown up, and his adoptive father, was slim to none, but she had no way of knowing for sure, and she could only imagine the thoughts going through John’s head...the fear that he might lose the child he’d raised since toddlerhood…the boy who, by John’s own admission, was one of the few things that had kept him alive following the death of his wife.

 

Not knowing what she could say to reassure the Sherriff, Thea stayed quiet as she followed him into the living room. Stiles and Jackson were both already there. Stiles was sitting at one end of the couch, his legs tucked up beneath him, while Jackson sat in an armchair, looking a little nervous, but otherwise ok.

 

Three full weeks had passed since Thea, Roy and those who had accompanied them had arrived in Beacon Hills, and two weeks had passed since Stiles had been let out of hospital. Laurel and Diggle had returned to Starling City already, as there had been nothing more for them to do in Beacon Hills. Oliver and Felicity would be leaving the following morning, while Roy and Thea would be staying for a few more days before they too returned to Starling City, although Thea wasn’t sure for how long. Jackson wanted to say in Beacon Hills then Thea and Roy would only be going back to Starling to get things organized, and to pack, before they permanently moved back to Beacon Hills so that Jackson could stay with them and everything would be settled before school started again.

 

The timing had given Stiles a chance to heal and physically and mentally begin to recover from his ordeal at the hands of the Whittemores. Every time Thea looked at Stiles she could see him getting better, regaining his strength and confidence as the physical marks left be his abduction…the cuts and bruises on his skin, continued to fade.

 

As for Jackson, without any sign of physical injury from that night, but carrying a lifetime of mental and emotional scars, Thea was less certain. The teenager seemed to be constantly at war with himself, wanting in equal parts to reach out and get to know his biological family, while at the same time holding back, hiding how he felt, in fear of getting hurt again. It was physically painful for Thea to watch the conflict on Jackson’s face, as much as he tried to hide it.

 

Regardless of where he lived, Thea had the sense to know that it would be a long time before Jackson regarded them with genuine affection…or something other than mistrust. As for actually calling Thea and Roy Mom and Dad…Thea had all but given up the slightest hope of that ever happening.

 

The Whittemores might have been arrested, their dirty secrets exposed for the world to see, but the impact they had inflicted on Thea’s family…on the boys, on her and Roy and Oliver and the others, would carry on for many more years.

 

Almost unconsciously Thea’s hand brushed against her stomach, over the place where she still carried the scars from the night the twins had first been taken. She’d never forgotten the baby that she’d lost that night, the baby sister of the two teenaged boys now sitting in front of her. As much as she was overjoyed that she had her boys back, after so long knowing that they were probably dead, deep down she still grieved for the baby she lost, even though she’d only known that she was pregnant for a couple of weeks.

 

Thea knew, realistically, that she would probably never get over the loss of her unborn child, but for the moment she forced her grief to the back of her mind, focusing on what was going on in front of her.

 

“How are you guys doing?” she asked gently.

 

“Ok,” Stiles nodded, fiddling some red string that he’d found somewhere, “nervous…but ok”

 

“What about you, Jackson?” Thea asked her elder son, “How are you going.

 

Jackson shrugged, barely meeting Thea’s gaze, instead looking at his feet as they were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, “I’m doing ok…I’ve been doing some thinking.”

 

“That’s good. We know what we’ve told you both to do can’t be easy,” Roy nodded.

  
“Er…do you want us to get some drinks ready while you guys all talk?” Felicity offered. Thea sent her a grateful look, and the Sherriff rubbed his hand over his face, a small smile appearing on his face.

 

“I’d love a coffee, to be honest,” he admitted, “the kitchen is through there,” he added, indicating the direction.

 

Felicity beamed and nodded, “no problem,” before she grabbed Oliver’s sleeve and all but dragged him from the living room, leaving the room occupied only by Thea, Roy, the Sherriff, Jackson and Stiles

 

“So…have you both made up your mind either way?” Roy asked. Both of the teenagers looked sideways at one another, before they both nodded.

 

“I…I want to go to Starling City…with you,” Jackson began, and Thea felt her heart leap into her chest. She’d never realistically thought that one of the twins would want to go back to Starling City, not when they both had friends back in Beacon Hills...even without taking into consideration the werewolf thing.

 

The look of shock on Stiles’ face told Thea that her younger son was just as surprised as she was. It was apparent that they hadn’t discussed their plans between themselves before now.

 

“You…you want to come with us…and leave Beacon Hills behind?” Roy asked for clarification.

 

Jackson nodded, glancing up and looking at Thea and Roy where they stood, although Thea had a feeling that she would soon be seeking a place to sit.

 

“I…I want to leave,” Jackson nodded, “it’s like…here everywhere I look there’s a reminder that my whole life has been a lie. I don’t want to stay here anymore. Maybe one day I’ll come back, but I just want to get the chance to forget…and Starling City is where you guys are from. I…I want to find out who I am…who I was supposed to be, not who I became because of what happened.”

 

“What about Lydia…what about the pack? Jackson, you’ve only been through one full moon.”

 

“Derek’s offered to put me in touch with the Alpha in Starling City. He said that he’ll take me in, make me a part of his pack. Apparently he’s an experienced Alpha with a large pack…it’s probably a better place for me than here. Derek…he’s struggling, and I think he knows it.   As for Lydia…well…I’m sure she’ll recover. The way I’ve treated here lately…she’s probably better off with me gone.”

 

As Jackson spoke Thea felt pride was over her at how mature her son sounded, and how much thought he’d put into his choice. It made her realize that although they were only sixteen right now, her boys were well on their way to becoming men.

 

“What about you Stiles? What do you want to do?” Roy prompted gently, although Thea was fairly certain she already knew the answer. Stiles’ reaction to Jackson’s decision had all but confirmed it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, “I’m sure you’re nice people, and that Starling City is a nice place to live. I might come and visit sometimes…but I’m not leaving my dad behind. I’m all he has left, and who knows how much he’ll cheat on his diet if I’m not there to monitor what he eats. As it is I will have to train the new deputies when they get here to watch what he eats.”

 

“Stiles,” John Stilinski moaned is exasperation, “You’re getting those family roles confused again. I’m the parent, you’re the kid. I look after you, not the other way around.”

 

“We’re supposed to look after each other,” Stiles replied quickly. To Thea it sounded as if this was a discussion the pair had gone through before, and a glance at the teenager’s face, and the way his voice had caught in his throat, the tone that Stiles used indicated that there was more behind the words than any outside would think. It didn’t take an IQ like Felicity’s for Thea to guess that it had to do with the Sheriff and Stiles’ shared history, and more importantly, the illness and eventual death of Stiles’ adoptive mother.  

 

Thea could imagine Claudia Stilinski, once they all knew and understood what was going to happen to her, but before her illness robbed her of her memories, making her husband and her son promise that they would look after one another after she died. The way that the Sherriff described his actions following the death of his wife had probably made Stiles very aware of his mother’s request.  

 

Of course Thea was speculating. Felicity had done some research about Frontotemporal dementia, the illness which had claimed the life of Claudia Stilinski, and shared her findings with the others. Thea had felt physically ill as she had read about the illness. Over the years working as a vigilante in Starling City she had seen many horrible deaths, but the death of her son’s adopted mother had seemed so much worse than any of them. Thea couldn’t imagine how horrible it would have been to slowly loose her memories until she no longer recognized those she loved, to be plagued by hallucinations and nightmares that made her paranoid and, as was reported in some cases that Felicity read about, violent.  

 

Realistically Thea knew that Stiles was better off in Beacon Hills, despite his involvement in a werewolf pack. He’d already gone through the loss of one parent. She didn’t want him to have to go through that again if it could be avoided. She knew that she and Roy lived dangerous lives, and that it was a minor miracle in itself that they both lived long enough to be reunited with their sons. At least if he remained in Beacon Hills Stiles wouldn’t be as impacted if something was to happen to Thea or Roy, or both, or any of the others.

“Stiles, it’s okay, you don’t have to justify your choice. I understand why you want to stay here. Remember, we told you guys that whatever you chose wouldn’t change how we felt about you both. We meant it.” Thea told Stiles, her voice leaving no room for argument. Stiles gave her a tentative smile, and Thea didn’t hesitate before she smiled back at him.

 

TW/A

 

Despite the fact that it was still summer the skies over Beacon Hills were clouded over, blocking out the warmth of the sun the day that Jackson was supposed to leave for Starling City.

 

The whole pack was there, outside the Stilinski family home, including Danny, who was standing side by side with Lydia. Stiles cast his eyes over the pack, before his gaze roved to the others standing around. Stiles’ dad was there, of course, and Melissa McCall was there too, along with Thea and Roy, standing patiently by the car that they would take to Sacramento.

 

Looking back over his shoulder, Jackson looked down the street, wondering if this was going to be the last time he ever came to Beacon Hills. Choosing to leave the town where he’d grown up had been a relatively easy decision, but now that the time had come to leave Jackson was conflicted. At least in Beacon Hills he had a little bit of an idea what to expect. In Starling City he wouldn’t have that.

 

Despite his doubts, Jackson knew that he’d made the right choice, so he forced himself to refocus on those around him. He went to Erica and Boyd first…the ones he had the least to do with over the years. Still, he was surprised when Erica gave him a quick hug, and Boyd shook his hand with a rare, genuine smile.

 

“Good luck,” Jackson offered, keeping things short, before he turned to Isaac, guilt bubbling within him.

 

“I…I’m sorry I never told anyone about your dad,” Jackson apologized, “I…I know it doesn’t change anything, but I regret what I did.”

 

“It’s ok,” Isaac nodded eventually in reply, “Realistically, who would have believed you. Everything has worked out ok anyway. Thanks for apologizing though. You…You’re not that bad, you know.”

 

Jackson snorted, “Keep an eye out for Derek. Make sure you let him outside to pee every now and then.”

 

Isaac laughed, and he and Jackson shook hands, before Jackson wandered over to Derek, who simply lifted his eyebrow.

 

“Thanks…for what you said the other day.“

 

“I’ve contacted the Sykes pack in Starling City; they asked me to give you this. It’s their pack house, and a way to contact them,” Derek nodded, handing over a piece of paper with an address on it, as well as a phone number. Jackson looked at it, licking his lips nervously.

 

“You’re not that bad, you know,” he finally admitted, “I…I know we don’t make it easy for you, but we know that you’re trying. Good luck with everything. If…If you ever need help…give me a call.”

 

Derek nodded solemnly in response to the offer, and Jackson shook his alpha’s hand, already feeling the distance between himself and the rest of the pack beginning to grow as he severed the pack bonds, preparing to leave, although even in the first place the pack bonds had never been very strong.

 

Thinking about pack bonds made Jackson turn his attention to Scott. If there was one werewolf in Beacon Hills that had distanced themselves from Derek’s pack as much as possible, it was Scott (followed closely by Peter). Things were still tense between Scott and Derek, although Jackson suspected that, for the time being they were being civil to one another, for Stiles’ sake. Jackson wasn’t sure how long it would last for, but he hoped that eventually Scott and Derek would see eye to eye soon enough.

 

“McCall,” Jackson acknowledged as he approached the other teenager, “If we lose next year’s championship, I am going to be very pissed. I had to do a lot of work towards us getting that trophy, and I won’t have you loosing it after only a year.”

 

Scott simply nodded in reply. Jackson glanced over his shoulder, at where the other werewolves were standing, before he turned back to face Scott.

 

“I also hold you responsible for anything that happens to Danny, Lydia…or Stiles. If they get hurt I will come back and kick your ass, you got it.”

 

Scott gave Jackson a look of surprise, but Jackson forced himself to ignore it, not liking how his request had exposed his feelings to Scott.

 

Jackson knew he was going to miss Danny and Lydia…it was the main reason he was putting off saying goodbye the them, and the pack knew that he and Danny were close friends…and how much he loved Lydia, but it was how much he knew he was going to miss Stiles, of all people, that was confusing him.

 

Before the truth had been exposed he hadn’t cared about Stiles, but those days after everything had come out he’d had a lot of time to think about how he and Stiles were brothers…twins even. Now Stiles wasn’t just his annoying classmate, or even a human member of his pack, but he was his little brother.

 

Now that he knew the truth, Jackson kept instinctively wanting to protect Stiles, fully aware of Stiles’ humanity. He tried to hide it, but when he was leaving town and he wasn’t sure when he would be coming back, he needed to say something. Jackson wasn’t so worried about Derek letting Stiles get hurt…the Alpha had long ago accepted Stiles as a member of the pack (even if Stiles wasn’t aware of it yet), but he knew that he’d needed to be more blunt with Scott.

 

“I will,” Scott nodded eventually, once the surprise had worn off.

 

“Good,” Jackson nodded shortly, before he moved away from Scott, and approached Stiles, detouring along the way to retrieve the brown paper bag he’d left by the front Porch of the Stilinski home.

 

“Good luck,” Stiles offered once Jackson reached him.

 

“You too, I think you need it more than I do though,” Jackson nodded, before he handed over the brown paper bag. Stiles took it curiously, and cracked it open cautiously, as if worried about some last final prank. When he caught sight of what was in the bag however, he smiled.

 

“If you’re going to run around with werewolves, you’re got to have a way to rein them in, and getting them back to you if they go wondering off.” Jackson joked, and Stiles snorted, pulling a dog lead, with matching collar out of the bag.

 

“Have fun keeping them out of trouble…although I don’t know if you’re going to be any good at it…You’re just as bad as them.”

 

Stiles fingered the metal tag hanging from the dog collar, reading the engraving on the metal

 

 _‘If lost please call Stiles Stilinski’_ followed by Stiles’ phone number.

 

“Thanks,” Stiles finally said, his voice choking up just slightly looking at Jackson.

 

“Alright, listen up, Stilinski,” Jackson ordered, “none of this sappy stuff, ok. I’m the only one who can pick on you, alright. Anyone else tries…just ignore them, and tell me, and I’ll sort something out. Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you don't deserve what you want. Go for it.”

 

“Said the Joker to Robin,” Stiles smiled, recognizing the line, “Is that you saying that I can date Lydia if I want?”

 

“No, that was me, saying that you can date Lydia if she wants to. After everything, though, I kind of think she just wants a friend, especially with Allison gone.”

 

“I can do that,” Stiles nodded. Jackson, exhaled, heavily, before he pulled Stiles into a rough embrace, knowing that his reputation, at least with those around them, was gone anyway.

 

“Keep an eye out for Danny for me. He’s still new at all this.”

 

“You got it,” Replied Stiles as Jackson pulled away and approached Danny and Lydia, noticing how Roy and Thea approached Stiles once he’d left his brother’s side out of the corner of his eye.

 

Lydia took a few steps towards him, and Jackson hugged her carefully, fully aware of his new werewolf strength.

 

“I’m sorry I treated you badly, Lydia. Maybe now you’ll find a guy who actually treats you like you should be treated. I shouldn’t have used you as a way to deal with my own crap.”

 

Lydia sniffed, her eyes welling up with tears, “That’s probably one of the most romantic things you’ve said to me.”

 

“It’s all those times you made me watch the Notebook, all that romantic stuff rubbed off on me,” Jackson told her with a wry smile, pointedly ignoring the way his voice caught in his throat.

 

“You’ll keep in touch, won’t you? I don’t want to have to keep pestering you to call me when I should be focusing on more important things.”

 

“Yeah, I promise. Can’t have you worrying about me,” Jackson teases gently.

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Oh, I won’t be worried about you. How else am I going to find out what all those private school girls in Starling City are wearing at the moment? At least you know brand names. If it was Stiles that left and you stayed I might have been in trouble…we’re talking about a guy who things orange and blue go well together.”

 

Jackson snorted, “Obviously having some fashion sense is a gene that skipped him.”

 

Lydia gave him a weak smile, and Jackson hugged her once again.

 

“Take care of yourself, ok?” She asked. Jackson nodded, before he brushed his nose against her neck, resting his cheek against Lydia’s shoulder as he inhaled Lydia’s scent, committing the combination of roses, strawberries and books that was uniquely Lydia to his memory.

 

“I will,” he promised solemnly, “As long as you look after yourself too.”

 

Lydia nodded, not needing to say anything. With the pad of his thumb Jackson wiped a stray tear that had fallen from Lydia’s eyes from her cheek, before he brushed his lips against the same spot in a chaste kiss.

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Jackson offered in farewell, and Lydia nodded again, before she stepped back, away from him.

 

Jackson didn’t hesitate as he stepped forward, embracing Danny smiling when he felt his best friend’s arms tighten around his back.

 

“I told you that I was your type,” He teased. Danny gently swatted the back of Jackson’s head.

 

“I am not going to kiss you, so don’t even try,” Danny replied.

 

“You’ll keep an eye on them for me, won’t you? He asked. Danny didn’t even need to ask to know who Jackson was referring too. He’d had Jackson staying with him for the last few days, who knew, all too well, the ones that Jackson was the most worried about leaving behind in Beacon Hills.

 

“If anything happens, I’ll call you,” Danny promised, “and even if nothing happens and everything goes back to normal, I’ll still call you. Maybe I can come and visit some time, and you can introduce me to some of the gay guys at your new school and introduce us.”

 

“You got it,” Jackson laughed pulling back a bit from Danny and clasping his best friend on the shoulder.

 

“Thank you, for everything. I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole mess.”

 

“Meh, it keeps life interesting,” Danny shrugged, “I would have gotten bored with you gone and nothing else to sort out. Making sure Scott and the others don’t do something stupid and get us all killed will keep me busy.”

 

“Hey,” Scott protested from where he stood, not far from where Thea and Roy were saying goodbye to Stiles, Sherriff Stilinski and Melissa McCall.

 

Jackson rolled his eyes at Danny, who shook his head dramatically, before a serious expression crossed his face.

 

“I know that it’s going to be hard, but try to stay calm, ok. Thea and Roy…I think they’re good people, and they know the truth. Maybe they can help you with some of your…issues.”

 

“For their sake I hope so, it’s going to be a long two years until graduation for them if I don’t change,” Jackson acknowledged ruefully, very aware of how difficult he could be to live with. He knew he had anger issues, although it had been better lately once the truth had been exposed. He’d had time to process the bombshell, and so far he’d had nothing but pleasant interactions with his real parents, barring that first night of course. He hoped that maybe Starling City would offer a fresh start for him, a opportunity to leave his pain, frustration and anger at his loveless childhood behind, and to live the life he was supposed to before he’d been taken away.

 

“Good luck,” Danny offered.

 

“You too,” Jackson replied, and the two hugged one last time.

 

“I’ll Skype you, yeah?” Danny suggested hopefully. Jackson snorted.

 

“Of course, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Danny smiled, as Jackson moved towards the car, already packed up with his things.

 

Thea and Roy finished their goodbyes, and Thea hugged Stiles once last time, with Roy ruffling the teenager’s short hair fondly, before they approached Roy and the car. Out of the corner of his eye Jackson saw Danny and Lydia move closer to the rest of the Pack, until they were standing beside Stiles. Stiles for his part, offered Lydia a supportive smile, which she returned, before they returned their attention to the car that Roy Harper had already gotten into and started.

 

“Are you ok, Jackson?” Thea asked, having opened the front passenger door. Jackson blinked, inhaling one last time, taking in the combined scents of the pack, and of the smell of the woods that seemed to fill the air in Beacon hills.

 

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” he replied, opening the back passenger car door, and , throwing one last look over his shoulder, he got in, thankful that Roy had already lowered the window the whole way.

 

Thea waved to the pack, specifically Stiles one last time, before she too got into the car. Jackson waved from the backseat as Roy put the car in gear and slowly eased out from the curb, tooting the horn in a friendly way as he accelerated down the street. Jackson watched through the open window as the town he’d grown up in, the only home he’d ever known, passed outside, and as they passed the city limits, on the way to Sacramento, he let out a shaky breath.

 

His life in Beacon Hills was over, although he would never forget it. Ahead of him was his new life, in Starling City. Yes, he would always be tied to Beacon Hills, and he wouldn’t severe ties completely with those he had met in the small town, his friends…his pack, but this was a fresh start, and Jackson couldn’t help but wonder what his new life in Starling City would send his way.

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you looking for more check out the first three storeis in this series (if you want to or haven't already) or check out my profile for my other stories, and stay tuned for part five, coming to a computer/tablet/phone screen near you around easter (approximately...don't kill me if i don't make that deadline).
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed Reunion.
> 
> R.W.


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